An album once a year – a cushy job!
They toured to flog the disc. It’s called ‘promotion’.
From Paul McCartney’s Wings to Billy Ocean,
they did their vids to earn a couple of bob.
In those days, Stayin’ Alive was not a prob,
since every Aucklander, each Nova Scotian
aspired (was wired) to do the locomotion.
Though Patty Hearst could steal, she could not rob.
Today it all occurs on Spotify.
No videos are made now. People ‘stream’.
Epocs of plenty pass. The pendulum swings,
and groups who don’t play live are groups who die.
There are no Doobey Brothers, Canned Heat, Cream.
The truth? I’d rather hear the Gypsy Kings.
Demagogue not pedagogue
Aghast & agog
Perfidious insidious fog
Reeks of the past
Slog through the smog
Musk seeks to flog
Earth & its serfs
Downed & drowned
In his dystopian bog
Even starry nights
Elon’s neon satellites
Seedier media perch
Utter nutter besmirch
Thriving in the gutter
Conniving depriving church
Vex "X" & Tech T-Rex hex
Or next bogus Rogan
Bogan slogans prevails
Alpha male tales derails
Sod the planet’s scars
Cruise trips to Mars
Odd bod driverless cars
Spawn a fake Tarantino
Remake.."Musk till Dawn"
Devil may care lair..
Loads of lies..skies chock a block
With spies...all eyes on the prize
Everyone Everything Everywhere dies
Let's not parley with gnarly snarly
Musk...takes the mickey & the bicky
In the dock for running amok
Time guys he did finally own up
To being as grown up..
As a Farley’s Rusk (a British biscuit/bicky for a wee kiddy)
Geoff Butterworth the English colourist is my pick
to make watercolours so realistic
His paintings have perspective the discerning now seek
Try this link* to give this art ..a peek
inspired by a recent 'Flog it' tv clip/interview
I could go anywhere with my walkie
I’m talking walkie talkie
long before I knew I needed a dog
(anxiety is funny that way
striking when you want to play
locked in a cage with your brain set to flog)
I could go anywhere and talk to anyone
else paralyzed sitting alone on my bum
sorry this poem sucks I have to go walk my dog
We are mercenary rebels of emotion
From another place across the wide blue ocean,
With noble ideas concepts and one man’s notion
Come and join our paladin band of devotion.
Force with intellect many incentives to earn
Use of one’s youthfulness with countless plans to burn,
Believe in us an alien thought control to learn
Together as one our enduring strength will turn.
When morning mist is apparent there hides the dog
In disguise blending with your democratic fog,
Brainstorming army infiltrates commerce to flog
A change of pennant an evolution to log.
A choice to navigate with the will of the crowd
Alone to wander aimlessly as a rogue cloud.
© Harry J Horsman 2020
I am leaving
I am leaving it all behind
so many regrets,my injured heart heaving
decades wasted,the hand of time I can't unwind
My bags are packed
My bags and shattered soul flee from reality
courage to face my fears,I lacked
cowardly running away,striped off all
dignity
I am picking up pace
I am picking up pace and distance from the past
Harsh reprimanding wind flog my face
In the real world how long will I last?
I am finding a new beginning
I and finding a new beginning and making root
Am going home,the highway my awakening
nowhere to hide from bad decision,face it and be resolute.
When ignorance and mediocrity is on display,
fancy title and salaries become proof thereby.
The incompetence to deliver is the destruction,
implementation without visions is a foolish attraction.
What makes it very clear, when too many idiots pulling the plug,
the ship will sink, regardless the excuses by this pathetic flog.
Leadership has to proof itself by sincere integrity,
or democratic politics become anarchistic misery.
The chances are that everybody stops paying the electric bill,
and those self elected wasters running for the hill.
The parliament exchanges all day long so many honors like a sugar wand,
pushing responsibilities further and further to dumbfounded stand.
Legislated arrogance creates a memory tread,
when relativities bouncing of the empty head.
When politicians and its sheep’s hunt the savage dream,
prophecies of failure are the current in the stream.
By Parizo Van Thulare
Like the thunderstorm in my mind
It rolls ,seeking a way out
It crawls deep out of my pores, hoping to see sun
Burning as the veld fire
From my medulla to my spine ,the heat is felt .
In words rhyming like in a flog
Telling me to wake up and let in bleed
Round and round down my mouth
It wants to speak for the broken
The mender of souls
The healer of hearts
The remedy of doubts
This is POETRY in making
RESTING AT NIGHT
At evening when the sun dried the boards
And the wind dropped to a lulling sway
We sat like lords
Of all we survey
Listening to the fiddle of the cook
And all the while giving a furtive look
Toward the captain's door
And his terrible roar
Which in the daylight
Commanded grog or flog
But ordered scriptures by night
Leaving us all agog
8 October 2019
………………………..............
Note - this is another exerpt from my longer poem, “Discovery of America”,
the real story of men against the sea in 1492.
“Grandpa when are you ‘gunna’ turn into a frog?”
Me grandson said as I brushed him away;
‘Turn into a frog! That flamin’ kid’s on the grog!’
“Go on! You get outside and play!”
Then I went to the fridge and brought out two cans.
One for my son-in-law; the other for me.
And we talked as we drank about his future plans,
but me grandson once again made the plea.
“Grandpa when are you ‘gunna’ turn into a frog?”
I hadn't a clue what he’s talking about,
so I waved him away as I gave him a jog
“Keep it up ‘Sonny’ and I'll give you a clout!”
Then I went back to talking with my son-in-law
about the footy and cricket but then,
while we’re conversing me grandson once more
interrupted when he asked me again.
“Grandpa when are you ‘gunna’ turn into a frog?”
I’m heating up now; I said “You little brat!
I’ll show you frog after showing you flog!”
But why does he keep on asking me that?
“Now look here young ‘fella’ what makes you think
that I’ll turn into a frog?” And then me grandkid,
said “I heard Dad telling Mum with a smile and a wink -
when your father croaks we get ten thousand quid”.
Piss
I tell missy for class say;
Aunty, i want to go and piss
Naim everybody con begin to de laugh,
Auty coman get angry and get up and shout
'Class if i hear pim again'
Anty na look at my side and talk say,
You this child;
You can not come and kill me in this school,
Now correct yourself in good English
Before i flog your bum bum,
'I wan to go outside and wee wee anty' please
As the piss don catch me well well
I now run straight from inside class to lavatory.
In the lavatory, i see many many big big ;
Some black, brown, water - water and
small small worm everywhere,
It is not working again
So it is smelling bad bad
And teacher say dirty environment
Is germs and disease place
I now coman run to the bush
In the back of lavatory to piss
Kr kr kr kr
The zipper didn't want to open
So i now draw my school knicker down
And lowered my pant,
'Pss psssssssssss pss pss.
Pr pr pr pr prrrrrrrrrrrrr
Leki kettle way de blow whistle.
After i now finish pissing,
I shake my thing very well so the last drop
do not stain my cloth
So my Classmate will not say
I piss on my body and start calling me
"Pissi pissi for body".
Ghops
Give me light that i may see the way
Show us the road that we may follow
The path
Tell us the story that we may hear
And go back home to gather all
By the face of nature
Flog the wrong doer that he may
Learn
Rebuke the wrong answer that
The wrong question may die
For action begets actions
Make haste while the stars
Are many to teach me
With correction
Show me with love
Then you lead me to rest as
An adults who passed through
Cuts as a child to become a
Curtain without cuts
I hate me
More than any of you could
Still i am
The man who stood
Gravity couldn't pull me down
Looking through space
From the outside in
Taking each pain with a widening grin
Improbably Probable
normally curious
but curiously abnormal
Sliding down elongated giraffes necks
with glee stolen from innocence
Outwith so small to the vastness within
Take your best shot
I say with a grin
As my tears trickle down
i watch through them to see you all drown
Give up world
Take your own advice
The seconds between my first and last beat
Gods crushed between my fist
The amoebae grows a backbone
Your pains have found a home
Take this warning
as your staple food
Still i am
the man that stood
Strip me of time
and flog me with life
Rip me with lyrics
and blind me with sight
Push me down
with all that you might
Cause from this spot
i will stand
simply
because
i
can
Flogged a Dead Horse The Dream
It felt no pain
pain I felt
flogging works like that
So I sat
upside down
in Australia
Started to fall asleep
cider I was in, knee deep
A kangaroo woke me up
It felt no pain
as she flogged a dead man
flogging works like that.
Flog a Dead Horse The Reality
and feel its pain
that's how it works
I sit
upside down
in Australia
knee deep in cider
while a kangaroo flogs me
it doesn't feel my pain
I'm a dead man
that's how it works
Golf backwards is flog; God backwards is dog
Eat backwards is tea; team backwards is meat
Pot backwards is top; top backwards is pot
~ And ton backwards is not!
Nap backwards is pan; nip backwards is pin
Raw backwards is war; Ron backwards is nor.
~ But 3 backwards is not 4!
There are so many of these where the
first and last consonant are the same, like
Bob, pop, top, mom, dad, bub, bib, did, dud
gag, Lil, mum, nun, pup, peep, sees, tot, wow ...
~ Tho heh is not for horses!
...Not to mention all the acronyms, like
ABA, AMA, ARA, CCC, LOL, SDS, SOS
~ And SSA is Mule!
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