Best Pensioners Poems
Willows wheeze while traders weep
A head for softer shoulders grasped
Spread another bid too deep
On margin calling crumpled dreams collapsed
Umbrellas saved the follicles
While frozen feet alarmed by sudden cold
Observe the blaze advanced to diabolical
All paper perished, all future visions sold
Jackals trace the wall of worry
Dining on the furtive few
Until at last the feast of falling flurry
All pensioners resolve eschewed
They’re playing bingo in the lounge bar,
between ten and dinner time,
pensioners arrive from near and far,
to try and win a bingo dime.
I’m watching from me usual stool,
and hear numbers shouted out,
while drinking beer that’s nice and cool,
waiting for the ‘bingo’ shout.
While there is laughter and loud groaning,
depending on their bingo luck,
some others claim of their disowning,
because bad luck has struck.
They are not sitting at a bingo table,
but in a corner all alone,
knowing for now that they’re unable,
to leave the tavern comfort zone.
The Barley Tavern offers shelter
for the likes of Lukey Brown,
who’s problem’s not a mere welter,
but a simple wife put down.
We all know that a woman scorned
can breed disaster to a tee,
and many times a love is mourned,
that’s why I offer therapy.
I brought a beer for Lukey Brown,
who gave me a nod and smile,
and after I was sitting down,
I put Lukey up on trial.
“So what’s the go old Lukey mate?
Why are you feeling so morose?”
And Lukey took a while to state,
“Are all women bellicose?”
Lukey really had me puzzled there,
‘What does bellicose all mean?’
And Lukey states “it means beware,
the wife’s about cause a scene,
and all because she made remarks,
about a couple down the road,
and my reply it set off sparks,
and bellicose so quickly showed.”
Then I supplied more therapy,
shouting Lukey another beer,
to ward off living dangerously,
but to learn to live with fear.
“She pointed to a couple in the street,
who played a loving sexy game,
kissing, cuddling, and no way discreet -
then! Why can’t you do the same?”
“Why can’t I do the same I said.
Have you gone stark raving mad!
I got the stare that means I’m dead,
everything got worse than bad.
With crude insults I copped the hurl -
- can you get me another beer?
I said no way, I don’t know the girl;
and that’s the reason I’m in here.”
It was a day of chaos
The day the pensioners struck,
Massed Mobility Scooters moving
Forward like a Rugby Union ruck,
Blocking all the streets
In the centre of town,
To all intents and purposes
Closing the city down.
The police were very tolerant,
Withdrawing their attack
After more than one officer suffered
From a wielded walking stick's whack.
The atmosphere changed
Soon after that
Lots of bonhomie
Banter and chit chat.
The action was called offi
Promptly at five to three
Thus allowing each
To be home in time for tea.
The action wasn't called
For any cause or good:
No it was carried out
Just to show they could.
Massed Mobility Scooters moving
Forward like a Rugby Union ruck.
It was a day of chaos
The day the pensioners struck.
To reclaim needless expenditure, allow the MP's to repay
No matter the total, let the law courts have their say
Now our economy has taken a turn for the best
Restructuring internally an injection of zest
Now, let's look after our pensioners, and place them in jail
They'll have showers, walks and hobbies, where their care won't fail
From unlimited free prescriptions, dental and medical aid
Wheel chairs aplenty, not a penny will they have paid
Constant video monitoring, instant assistance if they fell
Bedding washed and changed twice a week, soon they'll be well
Having someone check up on them, every twenty minutes or so
Bringing meals to their cells, watch the smile in them grow
Families visit in a suite, for their purpose and nothing more
Enjoying Snooker, Pool and Sky TV, and a Library to explore
Clothing would be provided, shoes, slippers, PJ's and Legal Aid
It's all free on request, oh my! certainly no charges to be made
They would also have gardens and lovely exercise yards
Computers, TV and Radio and as many as they want, phone cards
No longer would there be a Matron, a board of directors there will be
A code of conduct for the officers, strictly adhered to, you'll see
And what of the poor prisoners I hear your minds start to think
How will they cope, these poor souls left on the brink
Well, they'll get by with cold food, left alone unsupervised
All lights turned off at eight, as they will internally cry
Mind you they will shower once a week, live in a tiny little room
A figure of £600.00 a week they won't flout, with no getting out soon
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/political.php
I was on me way to Adelaide, to watch the Blues take on the Crows,
it’ll be a super effort winning there, as every Vic here knows,
I could have flown and watched the game and done it in one day,
but decided on a tourist drive to catch the sights along the way.
I took the narrow winding path along the Ocean Road;
took in mountain views of sandy beaches, these special vistas showed;
spent one night in the Grampians with Zumsteins Kangaroos
and another in the Little Desert; a garden filled with many hues.
Then I drove down to Mount Gambier to visit rellies there,
I toured around the blue lakes and the limestone caverns where
stalactites and stalagmites grew from the roof and floor,
and then I found my el dorado… a McDonalds store.
Since the morning I left Melbourne, it’s been all fruit and weet bix,
so its great to find the ‘Golden Arches’ where I get my ‘Macca’ fix;
a nice thick super burger, with a coke and double fries,
and it’s waiting on the counter and so attractive to my eyes.
I found a table that was empty, put down the tray and ate a chip,
placed a serviette upon me lap, grabbed the coke and took a sip,
unwrapped the burger, ate more chips; had another drink of coke,
then watched a couple sit beside me, but neither of them spoke.
It’s obvious that they are married and that both are elderly,
but it seemed strange they ordered, the very same as me,
then I watched the fella cut the burger, in half carefully,
divide the chips and into glasses, pour the coke out equally.
I must admit I felt embarrassed as I watched this small charade,
and thought that being pensioners, times must be pretty hard,
so with a caring gesture, I offered them my burger, chips and coke,
but they refused me generous offer, and the lady quietly spoke.
“I know you mightn’t understand”, and then continued with her riddle,
“But through our married fifty years, we’ve split things down the middle,
what we buy is always shared, including everything we eat.”
Then she sat and watched her husband, scoff his Macca’s treat.
Here I am still quite confused, as I scrutinize what’s going on,
she’s watching as her food goes cold, so I asked her what was wrong,
“Oh nothings wrong” she said, then took a drink to quench her thirst,
“It just so happens that its Harold’s day, to use the false teeth first.”
It was on a Sunday morning in the village where I stay
Out walking with my dog, I heard some pensioners say
Did you hear about the earthquake, it was somewhere in our State
No magnitude has ever been like it, it's impossible to relate
Quickly I headed home, to view this terrible news
Upon turning on the TV, I'm in horror at what my eyes now view
The awesome Golden Gate Bridge, against an azure bluey day
Lies broken, distorted and twisted, as if it's foundations had given way
The camera now focuses on the mainland, capturing plumes of choking black
Freeways lie twisted and contorted, trains running from their tracks
Gas lines spew throwers of flames, sirens resonate in blaring sound
What was level hours before, have dropped from it's original grounds
Many reporters are now on the scene, as they pan out across the blue
From the helicopter of CNN, Alcatraz disappears from their view
Slowly the island it sat on, as if by magic, now it has gone
Words are heard through the speakers, what the hells gone wrong
The daylight turns to black, a city lies in shreds
Memories of 1906, when three thousand plus were dead
All through the night, tremors came and went
Has history repeated itself, the San Andreas Serpent
I am awoken in the morning, having left the TV on
Panic stricken reporters screaming, most of San Francisco's gone
Where once stood a city, lie pillars of battered ruins
Deep gorges surround them, in bloodied scattered strewn
There's a break in the programme, it's from Yellowstone National Park
The land is starting to rise, incredible is the remark
Geysers that once flowed often, have receded in their shower
Are we about to witness, another of her powers
Back to the CNN studios, more footage of the morning
Towering inferno's in sickened tears, the clock, the warning
I fall to my knees in remembrance of the date
It's December the 21st, has earth met it's fate
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-17.php
Ruddy youths, outside my house
Can't walk to the shops at night.
Hanging on the street corner.
They even follow me to the pub.
They ought to get a job.
Instead of bothering pensioners like me.
I bet they'd mug you just for being old.
I can tell by the way they look.
I can tell by the way they dress.
It's not safe around here no more.
Ths is not the best of areas.
But we have to make the most of it.
I feel sorry for the old folk sometimes.
But at night I like to watch out for them.
Make sure they get to and from the shops.
It's a bit tiring after working all day.
The care home is very demanding.
But me and my friends enjoy the work.
Returning something for what was done for us.
I understand though why some are mistrusting.
Maybe one day the media will report positives.
And not stories that cause fear and intolerance.
Nigeria.
The country of my birth. Beautiful in youth. Wrinkled as the years pass by. Through no fault of hers. But by the doing and undoing of her children, consciously and unconsciously.
Blessed by God. Impoverished by mankind.
Struggling for self-liberation but incarcerated by wicked and egoistic souls. Souls who prefer to squander and milk the nation today with the goal of enjoying life and securing the future of their lineage.
Nigeria.
Everytime I read the dailies, the thought of what might have been makes it all the more pathetic. A nation whose citizens should ‘swim’ in milk and honey. Whose name should be revered amongst the comity of nations. But for the myopic thinking of our leaders – past and present – we are where we find ourselves; in the woods. The genesis started with their actions and inactions.
Directly or indirectly, the fault is ours to bear. Forget colonization. Forget its offshoot, neo-colonization. We can be what we want to be. Fortune favours the prepared.
Nigeria.
A weak giant.
Clueless leaders.
A country with no respect for history. For the rule of law.
Whose citizens are permeated with a brief memory span.
Nigeria.
How can looters still have the temerity to contest elections after their misdeeds some years ago! And people will vote!
Another election is forthcoming; we will forget the ordeals of the past. And vote these insatiable, power-hungry, monstrously greedy, sinister people called ‘leaders’ into power!
Posterity will judge. If it can’t, then God.
Nigeria.
Girls are being kidnapped. Maybe raped and dehumanized. Students are on strike and the government does not give a hoot. Some governors are forever enriching themselves by passing bills that will pay them billions of taxpayers’ hard-earned funds. Pensioners are being owed. Poverty is on the increase. Unemployment too. Crime. Name them.
All these in a sane country!
Nigeria.
Until our ‘leaders’ are stopped from travelling abroad to treat headaches.
Until a law is passed mandating their children to school in public institutions.
Until every politician is made accountable for every kobo spent.
Until the rule of law is supreme.
Until our votes count…
Things will sure fall apart in this country.
A Modest Proposal
By Elton Camp
A solution to the nursing home problem found
There are two groups who must switch around
To nursing homes the criminals must move
The old folks to prison their lot to improve
Pensioners would get showers twice a week
And have interesting hobbies they can seek
For free all their medical needs will be met
And any necessary medications they’ll get
Constant video monitoring would be in place
To provide instant response just in case
Twice a week their bedding made clean
Clothes washed and ironed will be keen
Three square meals a day they’d enjoy
A library and weight room to employ
There’ll be a secure exercise yard
To get a television won’t be hard
The criminals would get meals cold
And have to do whatever they’re told
One shower a week will be all
And often no attendant to call
If they complain, nobody will care
Or listen to those living in there
Six thousand a month crooks will pay
And have no hope of ever getting away
For this proposal, criticism I may get
Though I can’t benefit from it yet
Of selfish motives I am free
It’s what seems best to me
Grain, oil and gas from Russia; we must find other ways
To ensure that the unhinged war criminal, Vladimar Putin pays
They want sanctions lifted and they'll free up grain from Ukraine
Seems like the sanctions are at last working and inflicting pain.
Many poorer countries in the world rely on the exported grains
But it's stuck in ports because of mines, in the shipping lanes
The whole civilised world, and the United nations need to act
Or people in poor countries will die of hunger, and that is a fact.
Vladimar Putins empty threat is nothing more than a lie
He tells the west to jump up and the west asks how high
The west's response to Vlad Putin needs to move up a gear
Or he and his cronies will be thinking, we're cowering in fear.
I urge the civilised world leaders to send weapons at any cost
Or the Ukrainians will be overrun and their territory lost
Zelensky is pleading for long range rockets, to defend his land
To help drive out the invaders and give Ukraine the upper hand.
Russia is desperately recruiting men at home, to join their army
And have upped the age limit to enlist, to claim some sort of victory
Pensioners with guns you'll soon see who are ready to croak
The once thought invincible Russian army, is nothing but a joke.
Written 29th May 2022.
Christmas comes around once every year
Feeling of happiness, toasting good cheer
What does it now mean? I ask myself
Material things replacing god's wealth?.
What about people who go without?
Tummy loud rumbles when hunger sprouts
No home to keep them dry, safe and warm
Sleep out all night from dusk through till dawn.
Parents with no money to buy food or toys
Second hand clothes for their girls and boys
Breadline living no comfort or joy
No work for people, no jobs to employ.
Visit to food banks for something to eat
Donation of shoes for children's young feet
Loan sharks percentage payback plenty more
Twenty first century - modern day poor.
Adverts and television entice and tease
Buy now pay later, tempt buying schemes
Debts soar high at commercial gain
Children now wanting latest new game.
Parents trying to do their very best
Homeless in doorways rest tired heads
No one to talk to; pensioners sit all alone
Choose between eating or heating on.
Privilege sit in their ivory towers
Making the rules controlling by power
Reality does not affect their own self
I'm all right Jack sod everyone else.
Christmas is more than feasting and gifts
Jesus was born December Twenty Fifth
God sent his son to save us from sin
Born in the stables, no room at the inn.
Man's greed and for power still lives on
Many have forgotten god's only son
Kindness, compassion, help others out
Birth of Lord Jesus what Christmas is about.
01.12.20
''X'' Contest, New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsor Constance La France
Here in Bolehland, one video clip is making its viral round...
A staged episode of how talking to strangers can be far from sound...
The power of black magic via touch or suggestion...
Must be serious enough to warrant this video clip production...
Every so often you hear of people being swindled. ..
From old pensioners soon relieved of their life savings...
To everyday housewives losing hundreds of thousands...
And lovelorn ladies giving up more than just their thousands...
I'm sure we each have many a story of such subtle crimes...
Every once a while someone emerges as a victim of these crimes ..
It's so tragic the consequences for some hapless victims...
A naive young country girl in China ended her life after being a victim....
To end her shame and self disgust instead of getting on with her life...
This kind of crimes has no limits and spare no victims each time...
Leaving the targeted victim bare of all cash and cleaned right to the bones.
This video clip is timely warning indeed that we should all well heed...
Being thus forewarned is to be forearmed that we will not be victims...
Make no mistakes, it is some unlucky few who are targeted as victims...
Prevention is better than cure, that's one healthy philosophy to take...
We have got to take precautions, just so that we are not up to their grade..
Being alert, we'll do well just to safeguard our hoards of hard earned wealth...
All such sorry stories we have heard and are definitely going to hear..
Serves ample warnings that we should always be alert and beware...
Prevention is better than cure, why be caught unawares...?
I sit here
In a place where I have no fear
Will there be another score?
Does the crowd want more?
Chelsea is on top
While Arsenal should not want to stop
The cheery contingent wants the action
And the goals in this spectacle is the attraction
If the favorite ticket ends up a pay
The pub fly will gladly say
“The pensioners are here, and they will gladly pick up the tab for the beer”
But there is more time to go, carry on let’s get back to the show
A penalty kick was the trick
And the home team was able to gleam
One nil that was a nice fill
But them Gunners made up for that bad mistake
Getting a break away that left Chelsea in their wake
One to one was the score
Will there be more?
As the gunner goalie picked shots off
The beer settled making the blue shirts wonder who’s at fault.
As I leave cash for my mealtime turkey
Chelsea needs a goal without Arsenal doing another thing dirty
Time ticks away
I do say
This match may be a push which would be pain in my toosh
But during the late stage
A goal was written by Chelsea on the EPL page
Not much later the gunners stole the sporting pen
And the blue shirts were not able to defend
Having two shots on goal without a miss
A clear message was made that the game that doesn’t use hands or a fist,
This was not done
And in the stands, those wearing red asked the blue shirts ‘are we having fun’
These gunners do not need a lot just one good shot
To be honest damage was done with only the one
Making the Gunners walk away with all the fun.
Giving questions about those leaving with outbursts that were steaming
Looking about hearing those chanted shouts
The blue shirt cheers who had to pay for their beers
Thought this London Derby was not going to be a fight
But to those who were just watching it was exciting, right?
Two to two is what the scoreboard flashed
And the blue shirts only had a draw ticket to be cashed
Granted this was more money
For those who shed out more pounds just in case something happened that was funny
Chelsea and Arsenal find themselves tied
And hopefully no one cried
Since it was a nice entertaining evening where everyone gave it a good try
2 Terms Of Political Office
A political leader of a country successfully managed to extend his term of office...
Brings up the question of the wisdom of the previous curb imposed to 2 terms in office....
Bolehland has on record the incredible long tenure of 22 years by Premier Dr Mahathir...
And plans are afoot to restrict succeeding premiers to only 2 terms is service....
2 term may be too short for long term overall development.....
Besides the problem from the surplus of such pensioners ...
And atypical of Bolehland mentality, ad hoc programs will proliferate...
A merry go round of contractors, hangers on for part of the economic pie....
Hohoho...
Too frequent a changing of the guard....
Brings on too many a zealous new broom to sweep the room clean....
Hohoho....
On the other hand, a misguided head at the top....
Even a single term can have dire consequences....
Democratically there should be preventive measures...
To checkmate the slide into mediocrity...
Dr M helmed Bolehland for 22years....
Despite the many shortcomings, those were exemplary years....
Of prosperity, stability and high paced development....
Though with the benefit of hindsight...
Bolehland was tethering towards a gaping abyss...
Created by many policies and practices that have outgrown their noble objectives..
What was once a visionary and innovative initiative to correct a shortcoming....
Becomes a yoke of suffering and abuse once it's objectives are achieved....
Question of the day is when to review and to improve an initiative....
Before misrepresentations and abuses set in to abuse the system....
Then the need for change has to happen, a step back in order to move forwards 2 steps...
The Europeans were pioneers in coming up with parliamentary checks and balances...
But history too bears witness to the many atrocities and disasters they created...
The world wars, the religious crusades, the bullying politics of apartheid and slavery...
All faulted and wreaked by the overwhelming influence of supremacy of race and religion ...
What Bolehland is undergoing, it is nothing new nor revolutionary...
The only positive, we could be on the path to maturity...
All the existing abuses and clamour for better governance....
Could just be manifestations of growing pains of a young democracy...
Somewhere in the dungeon of my soul
was a memory I supressed,
and a song, a scent
reignited the place and time long forgot.
And I remember leaving the cocoon we called home
I remember moving to city estate
A communist Block of dingey brick hopelessness
Four stories of balconied flats
Assaulting the horizon with their oppressive ugliness.
I remember unwrapping cotton striped sheets
Claiming a new bed and a corner
In one of four bedrooms
Floors concrete with grey linoleum
the coldness hurt my feet
I remember the pink woolen blankets and the hard grey blankets from council.
Upon opening an obtuse door,
a boxy toilet with an exterior exhaust spinning,
and chain hanging down behind the toilet bowl
The room was always unspeakably cold,
always had to strain to use it.
A kitchen with two windows onto balcony
And a meter for adding coins to buy gas, for bath and cooking
I remember the bathroom separate from toilet
a rectangle room with a bath tub and face basin.
With a noisey point of use gas furnace for hot water. From any part of the miserable flat you can hear the flames heating up water,
And also always unspeakably cold.
I remember the massive parifin heaters that burned all through the night, the soot and the glare
Only the living room had central heating, a one buyer gas grate that heated the living room
I shed many tears on the concrete balcony staring at countless hapless pensioners and dolers alike
Faces stamped on hard with one expresion, hopeless resolve.
Our flat was on the third floor
Past ground, one was fine, two thighs burning,
three, always the stench of stale piss in puddles
Not on the wall like men do,
No these depositors stooped to render their rank fluids on the middle bank of the flight of steps,
a little privacy there.
I would never call this place home
Like a prison I would merely bide my time and fly away.