Our Nordic God run roughshod by the cynics
Mimics all those skeptics & pundits in pulpits
Sod odd bod critics clinics their unfair optics
Hysterics but Bazball clerics are not yet relics
Despite batting lapse alright collapse specifics
The insult not horrific result of cult’s gimmicks
Got it wrong will still sing same mesmeric song lyrics
Twits witticisms & criticisms taken a toll…troll gits
Shaken has Bazball forsaken its soul..drole misfits
No more stealth or self control just abysmal skits
Dismal death roll rigmarole gambits whole Bazball in bits?
On the dole or run rate wealth in rude health call it quits
Flits their way to play their flair hits as prole media spits
Grandstand Baz Ben stable fable big band brand label fits
Aussies canned.. gawking Larrikin ti*s balking..its the pits
Goal corking victory at the Gabba hoodoo fortress venue
Folks blabber talking of Stokes blokes stalking voodoo
Oz jibber jabber fibber distress as we made history..phew
Yes JuJu mystery temptress played express Yabba Dabba Doo!
Appalling.. hard not to diss the taking the piss
No not talking about the corking bliss of Travis
Bazball calling card just a scarred hubris abyss
Head’s rabid ripsnorter slaughter so rapid
Livid our boys stupid not vivid instead vapid
Fan fury wishing they will stop fishing
Hack jury dishing out flak still swishing
Go toe to toe with our oldest coldest foe
Blow by blow new low ego the worst woe
Wickets in a row..have a go free flow they all crow
Forget every aficionado all about Bazball bravado
Can hear them say no other way to play we know
Can’t teach reach each puppet that Mac did bestow
Beseech after another breach it’s the Muppet show
Boycott & Vaughan did warn along with many ex baggie greens
After the laughter at rafter of dafter scenes…still chill your beans
Really.. Stokes bespoke blokes choked were smoked...“Has Beens”!
Fresh air outside and sun.
The day is wonderful and fun.
The ocean, beach. Why are you home?
Get out. Run. Jump on a boat.
.
The laughs and smiles. Call your friends.
Tell funny story. Start to end.
And when you see that that stopped working.
Lift up Champagne and start un-corking.
.
The booze is floating. Hurrah.
Somebody dances on a bar.
A bar, a bra - oh those letters.
Who can pronounce 'em. Forget it.
.
Where was I? On a bar? Who cares.
The party moves to Caballero's.
The music plays. All pips are awesome.
Another round? Evening blossoms.
.
Next day will come. We all aware.
And maybe some will need to share
A taxi, money, friends or bottle.
To "freshen up" with one or couple.
.
But that's tomorrow, yet unknown.
Today is great and we feel flown.
Forget the problems. We all say -
You live just once. Get up and play.
With a thought in mind,
a brain bubbling in thought;
a brain storm, a short circuit,
an eye gazing at everything.
With a pen in hand,
and a vein jerks out of hand,
an ear on the ground,
railing out roaming words.
With a gather of figures,
a fact strolls in heart,
connecting fingers to pen,
putting pen to paper,
a poet writes his heart.
A poet writes his society.
A poet writes his fantasy.
His fictions; his love, he writes.
He sees beyond his imaginations,
and writes beyond his scope.
A poet proposes prose for prospect.
A poet, a pen full of points,
writes in sleeps.
Writes on stones; writes of evil,
and writes on everything.
A poet, a pen pulling past plans.
Before a poet pants, he plans.
Before he plans he ponders.
When a poet ponders, he pulls,
pulling pen to the trigger,
corking pen to pen down events.
As history re-emerges; events emerges;
submerging traitors of history,
submerging traitors of our time,
submerging traitors of season.
A poet with his poetic regalia,
donning his poetic gown.
With his poetic shield of history,
With his poetic armor,
throws a poetic spare to the enemies of history.
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