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Editing - polished draft

IT'S LESS THOUGHTFUL

The clock runs so fast

The Days, Hours, Minutes, Seconds

And Microseconds appears and leave

So it is with all the Months and Years

At Morning, Noon, Evening and Night

We see the sun, moon and stars

Enjoying themselves in turns

The rains come at its own time

The birds of the air

And other animals sing, dance

And enjoy their days

The human race in this world

Are busy with their life to live with

Yet months and years come and go

God so loved the world

The Cynic's Song

Recession, what recession, I couldn't care a jot
You should check out all the money that I've got.
I don't do any work as my dear old Dad's a banker
And he's a fat cat too, a total goddam wanker.

I look out my window to see the peasants grovel
In the dirt, starving in a filthy Council hovel;
I just sit and smile and sip my Laurent-Perrier.
Long live capitalism, I just couldn't be any merrier.

Eskerness Revisited...

Feeling left behind
The rear-view mirror shows where
Not wishing to drive
The scene ahead is blurred

Roads gone down, lanes lounged upon
Dust in my tracks
Washed clean by your forgetfulness
No soap needed

Bright kodachrome gleaming
Black, wet asphalt and spun tires
Smoke from burnt oil
And the smell of gasoline

I long to make tracks again
But my locomotion is weak
And I cannot leave what I've built
Oh, for shame, you cannot comprehend

Light my Fire

You said light my fire
An arsonist to light the pyre
Would that be, an all consuming flame
Or a smouldering burn, more easily contained
Is this to be a single conflagration
Or the match, to an eternal flame, of integration
Would it be the flame of lust
Burning heat then ashes and dust
Or the cleansing flame to warm the soul
Your invitation based on desire, wanting to be whole
You said light my fire
Standing with a match do I have that desire?

Samantha Beardon

All That Was Lost

All That Was Lost
SVH

La Bohème.

Your tiny hand is frozen
Let me warm it up for you
I'll kiss your fingers
And by good fortune
The moon is out tonight
So let me put your hand in my pants
And I'll get you as hot as holy fuck.

Dearest signorina
Let me tell you who I am
I'm Rodolfo, a poet,
Although no one would know it.
What do I do? I write poems,
Are you stupid or something?
Having TB is no excuse.

Three Serious Limericks

.................... I ....................

In a hut, 'neath an African sky,
A young girl is preparing to die;
She dies all alone,
She's just skin and bone.
"What a shame!" the world's crocodiles cry.

.................... II ....................

To conquer disease it takes money
(Ask any laboratory bunny),
But the drug cartels say
"We can't give cures away".
Don't you think that's really quite funny?

.................... III ....................

An Awful History of a Land of Avarice

Founded by a ragbag motley crew of
English, Irish, French, Dutch and the rest,
absent landlords, plundering slavers, religious rebels
clutching bibles to their righteous bellies.

Independent thanks to ministers of incompetence
in London and a moron German king of England
whose puny plans to quash colonial insolence
were foiled by treacherous French hypocrisy.

Adultery

Spring is in the air and so is married love;
For marriage is a gift from up above.
Holy wedlock offers one unending joy
Which all the sands of time will ne'er alloy:
Once you're married both of you are free
To get stuck into some adultery.
From now on each new fornication
Will have an extra-marital bonk-relation.
So go and get your neighbours' tongues a-wagging:
With some adulterous randy hardcore shagging.
Ah! que j'aime une nuitée chaude de fornication
(tellement, tellement mieux que la masturbation).

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