Has beens
and hopefuls
Poseurs
and scribes
Wings of
detachment
Losers
and lies
Fated
direction
Choices
on file
Lost in
the moment
Destiny’s
— child
(Dreamsleep: December, 2025)
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”!
When will Baz..Ben & their men ken..learn
Despite or to spite the "has beens" concern
Trouble to rubble only listen to their bubble
That Bazball trite shi*e they're always right
Be true to thine self.. the cover drive shelf
Lack that knack & gift to swiftly shift back
On pacy racy turfs where the conker surfs
Play it late and don't hit it on the up mate
Wafts of wishing fishing on the 5th stump
Down in the dump chump will then flump
Snag trumped by the ball that did rag jump
Nicked to slip or off the glove it did thump
Rascals debacles and wickets castled slump
Head more pizzazz..razzmattazz did gazump
Smoother purer surer bravura groover jazz
Baz did kowtow to an Aussie..now take a bow
OZ's wizard of the wood blizzard was that good
Y'all we should clearly really call it "TRAV or is that CHAV BALL !
WARHOL
silk screen
has beens
PICASSO
three way
display
GIACOMO BALLA
motion
picture
Newspapers can be logs for the fire
or non-functional rolling pins
Obsolete as white-stockinged town criers
along with typewriters ~ has-beens
distorted rose in yellow vase
how dare you chastise me
sure I wilted and lost my integrity
but look at you my withered beast
three d was the olden days my friend
we are mere shells of our vibrancy now
colors oozing out of us as we turn into boxes
distorted, disturbed, undistinguished skeletons
my melodic melodies are dead in the dreams of others
and you are smashed like a beetle
turning your kaleidoscopic self into another lost opportunity
do not speak of my demise my friend; we are both has beens.
"Masculinity"
In my awakening I grew more cold to certain things and people as I grew
that's an ugly truth unfortunately but who would've knew
that this is the part I would get accustomed to
Now here I am doing damage repair, trying to fix a broken man
but also trying to keep my family afloat
it's like trying row a boat wit three holes in it
still I got no problem exposing who I am…
this is me naked, on display at that gallery
trying to burn every impure thought like a calorie
but still, I gotta keep pushing
I gotta family to feed and teach
so no matter what the past was I can only fix the present
this is my opportunity to be present and present to them
the best version of me I can give
this is grown man biz it always has been
true masculinity must live on in this generation of has-beens
A badge of great honor
We wear it with pride,
They say it’s an insult
But we’ll let that one slide.
A boomer’s a doer
A person with Pep,
Marching alone
To their own special step.
The children of Giants
Who lived through a war
Instilling in us
The passion to soar.
They call us great bores
Whose opinions don’t count,
Incongruous has-beens
Our words they discount.
Little they know
It’s a wheel that does turn,
With each generation
Another to spurn.
Suffice it to add
We’re fine in our skin,
Whatever is said
They’ll still be our kin.
Millennials are brash
They message and tweet,
But most just innocuous,
In-fact rather sweet.
They look at their parents
The way we did ours,
With fresh consternation
Like brief summer showers.
When all’s said and done
For boomers like us,
There’s nothing more pleasing
Than life without fuss.
I read the title as
U - nite- as
three syllables - hard I
And I marveled that a female poet would
write of U Johnny
and looked hurriedly down the page
hoping to read
Of your years leading the Colts
(who were in Baltimore then)
on gimpy knees and guts
when a player
who had it
had balls
not a multi-million $dollar$ contract,
a side deal with a shoe company and....
and of the anger as you
were pushed from the color commentary
by younger has-beens
and sank into muddle-aged oblivion
However, I misread the title
uni - tas
two syllables - soft I
An homage to Aiende and Chile
a democratically elected socialist government
ousted by a CIA-backed military coup
to maintain control over strategic copper
but those days are over
and today the country
produces wonderful, cheap wine
and farmed fish
So I wrote this poem
for U
Written sometime in 1977-1978 on reading Dorthy Livesay's poem from Ice Age - which can be found here
http://envoifound.com/envoi-poetry-festival/poets-dead-or-alive/dorothy-livesay-october-12-1909-december-29-1996/
COPLA DIECISIETE (Corollary) : This Bad Guy World
Either account you must for self
At Death’s door or everybody
Gets a clean sheet
In either case it’s not your self
Which will inhabit your body:
None turn back neat
Pardons for wrongs encourage sins
Who gave whom the right to condone:
Not in His name
Comfort in numbers makes has-beens
Face your own guilt Death will spare none:
Stand by your shame
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Sometimes I feel like such a jerk
To hear friends talk of long lost work
Few leave their homes
All had good jobs
From nine to five
Just working slobs
When all is really said and done
Where was real life?
Where was the fun?
So as the years now just roll by
And no one really cares a bit
To hear these has beens spew their wit.
To my uncles Bam and Lil Man
It's easy to say hi, but its hard to say goodbye,
It's even harder to say goodbye when someone dies.
I did not cry, but that didn't mean he had to die
I said goodbye, and I didn't cry, Why?
Maybe it's because I know it's our destiny
Though people are locked up were out begging to be free
I truly don't know if that'll ever happen,
My uncles were what was up they were not has beens,
I may be young, but I knew what''s going on
For all of us one day they'll have to sing a sad song
Don't ask why, I'm dying inside
Because I didn't get a chance to say goodbye
I wish I could've said hi once more before he died
God takes good people away
To make us pay for what we did yesterday
So I just lay down and pray to God
Asking him to let me see another day
Let's sit and pray.
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