Multi-verse

disco daleks

Don’t eat cheese (or LSD) before bedtime

Beneath the spinning dishes, we watched the aardvarks dance,

and twenty shouting fishes, were sent into a trance.

A tailor and a vicar, fell down and writhed around,

while geese with eyes a-glitter, stood cheering on a mound.

Elephants started singing, badgers joined the throng,

a bell-pepper began ringing, and a haddock struck a gong.

Cyclists all rode nude, the skies became quite dark,

a crab with an attitude, said “Ooh, ain’t it a lark!”

I laughed so much my ribs hurt, my eyes were out on stalks,

as bats came from the woodwork, and the rats were made of chalk.

I heard a sudden buzzing, the phantoms did recede,

and wide awake but fuzzy, I got out of bed and peed.
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Brexit blues

Sad-bulldog

Brexit – British exit,
Screw you EU, we can do without you,
We can shoot our foot off if we want to,
Don’t need no thought control,
No straight bananas, human rights and that rigmarole,
Gonna go it alone, screw your free-trade zone,
Rules are for suckers, innit, gonna make Britain great again,
Bring back capital punishment while we’re at it,
The golden days, fuck you johnny foreigner,
Who cares if our hospitals grind to a halt,
Theresa May, ‘cos she’s a toff, Tory twats,
Cricket bats, leather on willow, warm beer,
Lend us your ears, it’s gonna get grim up here.

Brexit – British exit,
Check your Daily Fail for alternative facts,
Refugees, swarming like rats,
Dark skies, economic ruin,
Tabloids selling porky pies,
Business moving overseas, fleeing when they see the ship sinking,
USA got Trump, we got screwed too,
Right up the channel, hardcore propaganda,
Just like in the war, only we’re the losers,
Now we’re all over, projecting stupidity onto the white cliffs of Dover,
Pissed off people tricked with lies,
Not the EU who fucked your lives, we fall for it every election,
Elites in charge, the toffs always win mate,
We just get someone new to hate,
Who is this time? Not the poles, blacks or paks,
It’s deadly refugee attacks,
Lethal hordes, kick ’em out,
Maybe we can build a sea wall.

Brexit – British exit,
Right wing getting apoplectic,
They only feel alive when they have somebody to despise,
Fear the foreigner, don’t speak our lingo,
Have their own culture, don’t play the bingo,
Funny food, weird religions,
Bombs under burkas, terrorising our tots,
Get ’em out, scream the gutter press,
Britain first, never mind the mess,
You got fooled mate, your frustration used,
They know how to bend the rules, clever fuckers,
Goodbye yellow brick road, hello dark side of the moon,
Brits abroad? Don’t care about you,
Working classes? You’re fucked too,
Same old story, when you vote Tory,
Their money is a shield, your pain they’ll never feel.

Brexit – British exit,
Game over, see ya later,
Wave your flags and enjoy your ‘freedom’,
No man is an island, and these islands will soon be a no man’s land.

 

© Copyright Jason Lennick 2016. All rights reserved.

 

2016 – a poem

The lies were spun
votes were cast
and nobody won
in this British farce.

Across the waves
in election season
no home for the brave
when fear trumps reason.

Demonize ‘outsiders’
a favourite tool
social dividers
make it easier to rule.

The Earth’s still warming
despite denial
a new era dawning
or our deathly spiral?

In a time of fear
we can but hope
maybe next year
Trump has a stroke.

Putin’s on trial
Blair’s doing time
Truth’s back in style
and the weather is fine.

There’s no need to cry
next year could be ‘dope’
yeah and pigs might fly
and I’ll become pope.

 
©Copyright Jason Lennick 2016. All rights reserved.
 
 

Bird dog

bird_dog
A dog with a beak,
it seems rather weird,
I know I’m a freak,
but I’m not to be feared.

I have so few teeth,
‘tho I look such a fright,
my bark causes grief,
but it’s worse than my bite.

I’m partial to singin’,
but sometimes I howl,
’til my ears start a ringin’,
and I startle the owls.

My wings are quite small,
my legs very long,
and ‘tho I’m quite tall,
I’m not very strong.

If you see me don’t laugh,
I don’t harbour germs,
I just had a bath,
have you got any worms?

 
© Copyright Jason Lennick 2016. All rights reserved.
 
 

Sub-versive

octopus_lge

Nautical Miles

‘An octopus is not a cat,’
Miles said, ‘It’s plain to see;

it’s hard to keep one in a flat,
or sit one on your knees.’

The squid’s another cephalopod,
Miles got one: “just for laughs”;

it’s not as friendly as a dog,
but it’s much more keen on baths.

‘I cook it fishcakes every day,’
he told his best friend, Peg;

she looked at him in a sceptical way,
and said: ‘Pull the other leg.’
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Risk averse

A brief break from the nail-biting fictional dystopia to honour World Poetry Day – 21st March. Here it is, for better or worse, something silly – a little light verse.

What’s up with Dave?

There was always something odd about Dave,
Maybe it was the shouting at trees?

The fact he ate slugs, and lived in a cave,
Or perhaps ‘cos his friends were all bees.

From his fondness for swearing,
And demeanour – quite scary;

To the mask he was wearing,
He made most folks wary.

I saw him while fishing,
He seemed fairly chipper;

Although his jacket was missing,
And his tie was a kipper!

It’s easy to smirk,
To snigger and stare;

But Dave is no jerk,
He’s an odd billionaire.

***

Walkies

I took my snake out for a walk today,
Down to the lake with the talking carp;

While I sat and watched pink elephants play,
He splashed about, it was such a lark.

Sparrows roared, then danced a jig,
A duckling laughed, and clapped with glee;

I found it strange, my eyes grew big,
Maybe someone’s spiked my tea?

 
Copyright J.Lennick 2016. All rights reserved.
 
 

Poetry cornered ll

Green smoothie pictureOkay, one more dose of ‘humorous verse’, then I promise to inflict no further verbal vandalism upon an utterly disinterested world. For now anyway.

I will return to ‘normal service’, with more incoherent ramblings and disrespecting well-known art masterpieces.

There is also the nail-biting and completely miss-able final installment of the adventures of the world’s least helpful superhero – Procrastination Man.

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Poetry cornered?

Shakespeare bust pictureI’ve never been a great one for poetry, cockney rhyming slang is probably the nearest I ever got to a couplet in my youth. But what about verse? Is there a big difference?

It seems real poetry is a deadly serious business, with strict rules and regs. It nobly aims to stir the soul and enrich the spirit.

Verse is, perhaps, its rather more lighthearted cousin, playful, sometimes a bit silly and therefore entirely appropriate here. So in a fit of possibly ill-conceived and hubristic folly, I scribbled down a few lines.

I may inflict more on an unsuspecting world, depending on the quantity of bribes or death threats I receive demanding that I cease and desist.

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