Best Have A Word Poems
If I could have a word with God
I’d tell him I’m not pleased
Throughout the years he’s toyed with me
He tempted and he teased
He’d lead me up that primrose path
Then with my goal in sight
Spins me round a dozen times
And turn out every light
Seems to me whenever I’m
About to be in clover
Someone pulls the rug out
And I have to start all over
So please God if you’re listening
I’ve never asked for much
The next time I’m successful
Don’t kick me in the crotch
© John W Fenn 18-08-2009
Have
a
word
with
yourself
you
could
do
with
a
mate,
Have
a
word
with
yourself
girl
before
it's
too
late,
Ya
having
a
baby
'n'
cutting
no
slack,
Ya
having
a
baby
addicted
to
Crack,
The
why's
and
the
wherefores
they've
long
passed
ya
by,
You
could
drown
in
the
tears
that
crocodiles
cry,
If
only
you'd
listened
when
you
could
still
hear,
Ya
mightn't
have
spent
twenty
years
hooked
on
gear,
Scrimping
'n'
saving
all
to
no
avail,
The
low-
lives
'n'
flick
knives
the
harsh
sex-
for-
sale,
Have
a
word
with
yourself
'n'
decide
where
ya
bound,
Its
the
whole
of
ya
life
or
the
hole
in
the
ground,
Not
much
of
a
difficult
option
to
choose,
'Tween
the
life
that
ya
live
and
the
drugs
that
ya
use,
See
it's
time
to
start
living
get
down
off
the
shelf,
Do
something
and
fast,have
a
word
with
yourself.
For the time when half the day has gone,
The catchword through admission, it is lost,
Lest a change of a word that can be, crossed,
As 'pass-ed' is the best choice, somewhat, is drawn.
One interprets a wasted period,
As the other substantiates the point,
Pivots on any given word, viewpoint,
One equivalent to a myriad.
Just a wrong word, to point, could start a war,
As the right word will start the peace process,
If no word is ventured, then none I guess,
Then nothing worthwhile would come to the floor.
When you move counter, left or right, there's talk,
When both moves centered, then it'll be head-on,
So best choice, "the day passed, then, "the day gone",
Meaningful day, in matters of the clock.
death
be
the
shadow on the wall
the
shadow
that
i
could not call
while
death
make me
lay down
my sword
oh
sweet
death
may
i
have a word with you
because
i
know her too
but
still
she
conquers all
Free Speech is a pied-piper
of artificial colours and flavours –
mixing to grey, watching
The Censor’s Army
in red uniforms
march close,
as arson flames
turn to incense.
Who wants to be God?
Sit yourself down
And have a good long hard
Word with yourself
You yellow bellied coward
So involved with yourself
You are not the only person
Who has problems
Far greater than you
The only difference is
Unlike you they don't
Wollow in their own self pity
They take it on the chin
Roll with the punches
And carry on regardless
Without the theatrical rigmarole
And so should you
If you weren't a superfluous dilettante
Under the totally misguided illusion
The whole world revolves around
You and you alone