I, the blue-eyed, bright haired reprobate,
A product of the nanny state,
raised on free-to-air TV
and value cans of rice pudding,
lament the current climate
on a tiresome bus ride home,
glasses fogged from temperature change and
watch the world flit idly by.
Thoughts of evening news linger inside,
despair and poverty,
people just like me,
like old, rotten cladding,
crumbling under social pressure.
Us nanny state kids,
council-estate bred
with ideas above our stations,
are a damp squib on far right projections
of lazy people addled with benefits,
mass-producing offspring
in our small council-owned factory homes.
The future of this Divided Nation
lies in the hands, hearts and minds
of breadline babies and charity children.
It lies with the people
who traverse dangerous waters
in plastic boats, entrusting
their lives to the ocean
instead of guaranteeing their demise
on unstable land.
The nanny state has a habit
of mollycoddling, smothering
its most vulnerable with
all the extra support they need
to make their short time
on this sodden planet
just
a
little
more
bearable.
designed to impress
most would test
the authentic objective
of the designer
cladding, binnacle, bezel
family oriented
La moite en quantite' o'
en valeur.
Cabine multiplace et couchette.
myth of dual springs and
dual rear shocks
beyond the myth.
A state of the art leaf springed
rig.
researching the need
to create a new class of
commercail vechiles.
getting people interested in
the new way. a semi truck
an electric ev semi
weighing between
6,010 and 10,600
haul that load
.under 20,000 pounds
trailer puller
horsetrailer
dump trailer
gooseneck
and ball hitch
look professional
doing
those chores man.
the Aland Brand
C Class
Aland Rig!
Wondering where you are tonight?
Under the starlight I sail so bright
Rowing on surface waters that haunt me
Your faces on calm waters showing me
With my oars I hold so tight
Like your hold in me that caresses me
Winter dew that chills at night
Your heart in me, snugging me
Darkness now crawling on land and seas
On this river fitful hours spooking me
As birds and bees hiding in waft trees
Nearness of you following me
Winding, reaching the river bottom
Standing in white is cladding me
Over troubled waters you're standing over gollum
Your heart in me that's shielding me
Proclaimed the poster
stapled to the side of the old barn,
its bold, bright colors in stark contrast
to the faded paint of the cladding.
The tear-off tabs
hanging below the poster,
each with a bright pink heart upon it,
flutter in the hot desert wind.
Some had already been taken,
leaving empty gaps,
like missing piano keys,
a tune
never to be played again.
Love
G - Give me a new poem- any form - Poetry Contest Placed 3rd
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Date wrote: 1st March 2022
Spring, ripe and dulcet
usher for the vines
of mellow orchard
green leaf perch bird chime
thaws a winter gloom
Bane of snowbound
cladding doused in
red sunlight rays
sea salt tides rise
Wild rose plot’s
vivid shades
signpost faith
A sprig
of fresh
mint
Created and posted : 11th of March 2021
Contest : Spring Diminished Hexaverse
Sponsor : Caren Krutsinger
MIRACLE OF BEAUTY
Your visage glittered
Not as for those who filtered.
It glittered in wisdom,
Not in random.
You glittered like a gold
Looks like a bold.
Your cheeks are rosy,
Your motives became dizzy.
The dizzy of cuteness
That is termed as freshness.
You smiled in solitude
Not in longitude.
You adorned yourself
Cladding yourself.
Looks like a moon's fleck
In applied red lip stick.
Your eyes are so attractive
Highly adaptive
Cute and charming.
Love and caring.
For the welfare of people
This purpose to fulfill
We stand opposing threats-
For our fatherland’s will.
For law and order, all purely made by madmen,
Completely false
From the beginning to all ends.
Nonexistent to us forsaken by chance
To leave without trace
It's an unforgiving sense.
But-
I'll be
The soldier.
Raid the dunes of sinned warmth
There, a glass tracks my life remaining.
Time is powerful,
With it, I leave home in crestfallen loathing.
In this pandemonic land of length
everyone’s pretending
to have their own strength
As the sky sees us off-
without a wee woven wreath.
We see sands cladding our red spilling
For us to heal in death.
Shaheed-
I am
The Soldier.
Rise in the horizon,
Rise as the dust would and-
Return to our scarred, homely land
Pursuing warmth
In this now banished land
Finally, now at peace
by my very hand
Khatam-
I, was
The Soldier.
Some perhaps more fortunate poets will
With greater ease urge their heeding quill,
To tell in switching tones many juicy tales,
Of love-aided treks and shipwrecked sails.
Not so for this goofing lyricist whose
Heart-felt lays Muse hesitates to aid.
His adequately regaling yarns refuse
To relay accounts by raw feeling said.
While true impulse says song is sweet,
His loth pen lies that such ditties cheat
The listening heart with strange sights,
With fake ideals set on fictious heights.
Although unsullied emotion colors love
As that rare thing that it has often been,
His pabulum lines mar it with banal ink,
Cladding in dross the slick gold unseen.
The blundering odist displays want of skill,
But let his themes not lose their latent thrill.
I see me in every little scared child
Littler than even the smallest of her peers
Voiceless outside, screaming inside
Taking solace in a closed space with a dozen imagined friends
I see me in every defiant teenager
Beautiful, smart yet full of lies and seductive tricks
She knows no better
The awed uncles are just wolves waiting to tear her apart
I see me in a distressed youth
Unwanted baby in hand, no man to pat her back
Now she knows better
A smile too many leads down a dark path to disruption
I see me now a woman with a vantage view
Able to sift the shaft out and tell rubies from ruffles
Through pain strength is born
Robe cladding, teeth shining, accolades shimmering, claps roaring
I want to be free, I want to be me
I want to sail across the deep blue sea
I want to search for inscrutabilities once told to me
Where cities of elation lay below the sea
I want to be free, I want to be me
I want to fly athwart the skies
Where rainbows will wipe my cries
I want to trip new places
I want to meet new races
Living each day, seeing new faces
I want to be free, I want to be me
I want live life like a fresh new seed
Blooming with happiness that’s all I need
Cladding to life like an unshakeable tree
I want to be free, I want to be me
- Sherwin Fernandes
The leaves coated the ground in a tapestry of colour,
strewn around like matting hiding all sorts beneath.
A woven carpet that blanketed the earth with hues
of Autumn colours as slowly they returned to dust.
The trees seeming ten times taller without their cladding,
reaching, stretching high branches stark and bare
Knots now clearly seen as they twist this way and that
forming complex shapes high up in the grey skies.
The ground now cooling with Summer long forgotten.
A light sprinkling of frost slowing melting in weak sunlight.
Forming icicles that adorn like sparkling jewellery all a-glitter.
And the cold North wind sweeps over the hills and Vales.
Now all turn dormant, curled up in their winter dens and drays.
Hibernating the cold stark months away, food stashed close to hand.
The temperature falls day by day and in sweeps the snow not settling yet.
As the hours pass it slowly blankets the ground in pristine white.
Winter has now arrived and claimed all as her own!
In the mirror She sees
a heap of decayed images in fire,
Smoke cladding her soul
her pulse in hibernation
... a delusion?
... or the quest for liberation!
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