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Changing Times

Changing Times

Suitable placards are not to be found
carried by those who protest
Hippie and Flower Child far underground
no longer aiding the quest

militant factions now cry their demands
while terrorists lurk in the wings
neither are certain who really commands
but both have formidable stings

ample (serious limerick)

the world that we live in has ample to share
with plenty to eat, drink, sample and wear
but poor are still needy
‘cos people are greedy
oh shame, to be selfish with ample to spare

Let me tell you 'bout Mr. Face,
who dwells in the luxurious space.
He hasn't an eye, an ear, nor hair,
and lives though never breathed the air.

He's good friends in a very huge amount,
these are so many than any could count.
Because friendship is all that he'd care,
he'd travel to almost everywhere.

He lives on the thoughts yet he's anencephalic,
and always known for being abibliphobic.
along with him everyone would surf,
and yet he would never lose a nerve.

Workshop: 

original

I sit with him because he has no family
No-one should ever have to die alone
I hold his hand, perhaps to comfort me
He searches for his own direction Home

Both wife and children left this world before him
He stayed around for years with loved ones gone
and felt the bars of livings’ harsher prison
in what to him, each day, seemed like an aeon

Workshop: 

Gran and Pop (exercise 2, humour in poetry)

Josephine-Ellen-May Tyler-Melrose
(That’s Bobby and Sally-Anne's Gran)
has hairs on her chin, a wart on her nose
and a deep voice that sounds like a man.

But their Gran can fix anything broken, it seems.
(The kids secretly think she is magic).
And when she smiles, her face grows sunbeams
and she somehow turns comic from tragic.

Workshop: 

Living with a castle and a dungeon

It's really cold outside
The rain has stopped
But it's still moist and damp
And I'd rather stay inside. Abba

At this age running fifties
It's not so easy
In this skin
No longer twenties or thirties.

Outside is so cold and dreary
Like my sour attitude
Simply not in the mood
For messy yelling kids, feeling weary.

A fruit of my womb
Interjected her thought
You're bi-polar
Took me back with a boom.

500 Towels

if you missed the rail I’m on
one left dirty, clean one’s gone
when you’re living
with some girls
one hundred towels

Touching the moon's

Touching the other side
of the silent
flat chested moon.

I thought the moon was a flat mirror
till the Digest struck me dumb

Naive okay straightforward idiot
the moon runs faster than does the sun
and
shows the front face only to human

and
now tis your reflection
go get the other half across the moon
soon
if you can run faster too
can you
F uuuuuuu

Tonight

Body so limp and weak
Lying and crying barely able to speak
Warm liquid running down
Lips permanently worn in a frown
Salty water running down my face
Quiet sobs fill the air in a quickend pace
Always afraid and alone
No ones around to call my own
Writing all of my last goodbye's
Tonight's the night I'll finally die

Pathetic

Pathetic…

It’s very difficult to comprehend,
man’s reckless greed that will not end
If there’s a fight that we must win,
it’s one that lurks beneath our skin.

Consumption becomes our alter ego,
feeding this beast becomes a quest.
Around this planet devouring we go,
the strongest demanding all that’s best.

They construct an army in our name,
soldiers of fortune or maybe not.
Lead by those in power just the same,
lest our positions ever be forgot.

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