Generation Me.

We’re stuck in a grim, Dystopian scene,
The streets are all quiet where people had been,
‘Cause they’re queued at stores with only one goal:
Grab ten family packs of budget loo roll.

It’s “Me, Me, Me” – that’s all that matters,
The flag of unity lies shredded in tatters;
Ripped at the seam by the selfish and greedy,
Causing no end of anguish to others more needy.

“Myyyy …. Preciousss!” The Gollums of Asda can’t spell guilt,
Tins of beans and spaghetti, trolleys filled to the hilt.
What?! If they eat all of that, to me it would seem
The least of their worries will be Covid-19.

But I now understand why they covet bog roll,
It’s for when Heinz 57 wreaks its terrible toll.
You self-centred bastard! Just have it – it’s fine,
‘Cause your need will soon be far greater than mine.

Mind – there;s less cars on the roads, and the air’s getting better,
Seems the only one happy is wee Swedish Greta.
Is this what she wanted? Her Masterplan?
Vengeful retribution upon the common Man.

OK – Perhaps not. I’m being most unfair.
She didn’t create this total nightmare.
We all know the truth, that sun, wind and tide
Are all more important than some dickhead’s backside.

(Sorry, I digress.)

So the shelves have been emptied and there’s nothing to buy,
It made a hardworking nurse break down and cry.
But her tears have watered this hard land of ours:
From infertile Shame, Hope blossoms and flowers.

For while we distance ourselves from family and friends,
Compassion and Community have become the new trends.
So, forget all the morons, stay safe and reach out –
TOGETHER WE’RE STRONGER, OF THAT THERE’S NO DOUBT.

 

Foxes and Hares.

This is another thirty-year old effort that resurfaced when tidying my office.

(I’m sure I also caught a glimpse of Lord Lucan, but he legged it before I could ask him for ID.)

The poem was intended to draw a parallel between the blood-sports here in UK and the apartheid rule of South Africa at that time. Both issues have been addressed since, thankfully, and so the work is perhaps a bit dated. (I prefer to think of it as a ‘historical’ piece, now.) 😉
That said, I guess it’s still relevant in principal to any repressed people across the world.

(Image by Jackie Morris.)

FOXES & HARES

As the setting sun sank slowly at dusk,
Casting long, warm shadows that engulfed the dust,
The Hunters would return from the vast grassy plain,
Tired but happy their sacks filled with game.
Soon food-flavoured smoke would linger till light,
And the African Herdsman would sleep well that night.

Life then was so simple, free from worries and cares
For they were born to be free, like the foxes and hares.

The years flickered by and Time brought with it, Change.
And Time brought the White-Man, alien, strange.
And the White-Man was ‘civilised’ and so started a reign
Of torture and killings and anguish and pain.
And families were driven from homes lovingly made,
And The Herdsman was herded to start the slave trade.

They were used to being free in that Land that was theirs,
But now they were hounded, like the foxes and hares.

Where The Herdsman once lived off the fat of the land,
The White-Man now lives – The Herdsman’s been banned.
Banished to townships, ramshackle and crude,
Condemned to exist like no White Man ever could.
Found guilty of living, he’s been sentenced to die;
But though his body is broken, his spirits are high.

The Herdsman’s been captured in White-Man’s evil snares,
But he’s screaming and fighting, like those foxes and hares.

Chased and tormented by White-Man’s power lust,
Those Foxes and Hares are running, lungs fit to burst.
And the red-coated Huntsman sits high on his mount,
As his blood-thirsty hounds rip their victim’s heart out,
And while its terror-filled screams are heard here in UK,
“We’ll sort it, tomorrow,”  is all the politicians say.

And the public is outraged, but does anyone really care
About what exactly is happening to those Foxes and Hares?
_______________

Slim Chance.

The things you find when clearing out your office!

(This was written many, many years ago for my wife’s Slimming Club, when she was expecting our second son. It’s a humorous but hopefully inspirational tale produced principally for women seeking to lose weight.)

Bloke readers also welcome, of course.

SLIM CHANCE.

‘Fat can be beautiful,’ or so I was told
As I undid my corsets and watched the ripples unfold.
But given the choice, I’d rather be lean,
An hour-glass figure was my ultimate dream.

But dreams turn to nightmares as we all know,
And this weight-losing business can really be slow.
So I bought some diet-biscuits to help me get slim,
They said on TV that they’re just the thing.

But after a month, I’d gained three more pounds!
I turned the air blue with cursing sounds;
I didn’t understand – how could it be
That such a dreadful thing be happening to me?

As the days dragged on, I grew more annoyed,
My life became empty- a proverbial void.
ANOTHER FOUR POUND INCREASE? This could not be real,
I’d eaten those biscuits after EVERY meal.

Ah. So that’s what went wrong. I’d now seen the light.
I gave up all stodge and continued the fight.
I resolved to try real hard, no cheating, then who knows,
This time next week, I could re-sight my toes.

But it didn’t work out, my toes stayed in the shade,
And I pondered exactly what mistakes I had made.
Matters got worse and sometimes I was ill,
Then it dawned what had happened – I’d forgotten my Pill!

I WAS PREGNANT!

I really was ‘in the club’ – and not a slimming one,
But it guaranteed a weight-loss second to none.
No exercise programme; no diet sheets needed
And seven months later my tummy receded.

Now eating for two is a hard habit to break,
But I tried to cut down for the housekeeping’s sake.
But like all ‘best-laid plans of mice and men’
It wasn’t too long till I was fat again.

Come bath-times, I looked like a beached baby whale
And all magazine diets were doomed to fail.
Obviously now, something HAD to be done,
Drastic measures to be taken – but which way to turn?

THEN A FRIEND SAID:

“Go try a slimming club, they’ll help you cope,”
So I wobbled on down, my heart filled with new hope.
“Please help me lose weight, I beseech. No, I BEG”
“No problem,” they laughed, “We’ll cut off a leg.”

All joking over, my statistics were taken,
The truth was out, there could be no faking.
“Cut out the chocolate and alcoholic drink,
And it won’t be too long till your tum starts to shrink.”

They suggested I take a more positive view
And in a few weeks there’d be compliments due.
But if friends start to laugh, think “Nuts to them all,
I’m not overweight, I’m just under tall.”

My stomach was rumbling – a real weird sensation,
But I would not give in to this evil temptation.
They advised me at meal-times don’t over indulge
And I’d soon have victory in this Battle of the Bulge.

And slowly but surely I began to lose weight,
First a pound, then five, and eventually eight.
It gradually got easier by doing as they taught
And not being discouraged by negative thought.

And within six weeks I’d shed a whole stone
And all carbohydrates were banned from my home.
My clothes no longer fitted, but it was small price to pay –
I liked the new me, and I was here to stay.

__________