Trevor's buddies goaded him for a bet
To venture on the scary 'ride of death'
But there was laughter and jeer
When a brown patch did appear
Wearing white pants was his biggest regret.
Cheer there is such a thing as political karma
Sneer as your career fell off a pier Keir Starmer
No panacea clear nadir we jeer at sheer drama
Come forth King of the North such a charmer
Life so rife with strife & won’t make it calmer
But better go getter trend setter & vote farmer
Coup not out of the blue...Andy the embalmer
Outwitting Keir who’s been spitting like a llama
Might not become a peer or knight in armour
Rejection then ejection he’s an election harmer
A phony baloney Tony crony no Barack Obama
More banal bananarama than BBC's panorama
Out of date mate like melon & ham from Parma
Chance of return from exile same as Dalai Lama
Lost to a show pony time for a holiday in Palma
He was a charming gentleman and a much liked Prime Minister,
But suddenly insults hurled by the score, some hurtful, some sinister,
Wow, public's choice looks like mickey mouse,
Should be polished, talk well, not slouch,
Burnham watch out, politicians can read you well within global perimeters.
You talk a lot Andy, say things people want to hear,
It upsets me when I hear slogans that merely smear,
Starmer’s ego, hurt with each jeer,
And Mrs Starmer who shed a tear,
Don’t be too smug, many in 10 downing, want your cheer.
Grounds for sound. optimism, I revere,
cast your silken innate spell my dear,
boundless acts of kindness so sincere,
watch for gentle soul who may appear,
with courage, charm that neighbour near,
raise your voice eschew or shun that jeer,
heartfelt gesture never has a false veneer,
spinner of dawn bird chirp word a career,
they stress pure goodness without fear,
one prompt with praise, loathe to sneer,
from january first to close of calender year,
on another slant or somewhat bright frontier,
haunting scenic fare layer on layer, tier on tier,
divine vision when observing life on a pier,
omens shine everywhere just gaze and peer,
the poet, writer, playwright in their sphere,
duty bound as spry warm tidings pamphleteer,
blissful world not difficult at all to engineer,
me, torch bearer, spirited, jovial, zestful top gear,
my monorhymes might buttress a well-disposed ear.
A person in the public eye,
When subject of a joke,
Has every right to mope or cry
About the one who spoke.
Yet we’re still a democracy,
Though maybe not much longer,
And things we thought we’d never see
Are here and getting stronger.
The freedom that we have to speak
And criticize or sneer at
Applies to even those so weak
Their enemies they JEER AT!
The ALL-CAPS ranting’s not enough –
The claws must dig in deeper
To prove to all that he’s so tough
Revenge will cut much steeper.
And so the toadies and the Court
Will seek some retribution
As ABC might cut things short
In hopes of absolution.
It’s bad enough when words are hurled
From One-I Will-Not-Mention
But now, with wifely wrath unfurled,
There’s double the attention.
Well, yes, all the gruff beknown deny,
and ones’ own lifting oar hear mighty bombs burst
whilst autocrat hymn—
“Let cristned bombs pelt from the hea’enly sky”.
Awe! Does one shy in cheer, yes, forgo the indelible?
Or do one jeer? Cry?
Art one silent amidst nationalists amok?
E’en when in lifting ones’ own nudging oar,
yes, do hear mighty bombs burst whilst foreign babies cry?
Do one in secret loathe, yes, the moms
who as cristned bombs pelts sing nippers’ lullabies?
Awe! As the mighty cristned bombs pelts lands afar
does one disregard, yes, when mites, one's own, sever
the wings of butterflies
to garner affection so denied?
Awe, here lies, yes, barbarism in disguise…
I know my flaws are multitudinous
so I pray my best efforts are illuminous
so that underneath you cannot really see
the broken fragments that once made me.
The darkness that lives inside my chest,
clings to me like a safety vest.
Don’t want you to know that from my very core, I’m chasing someone who isn’t here anymore.
The time has passed and the years have flown
yet nothing seems to have grown,
since when I turned about eighteen
when everything had not yet been seen.
Each day feels heavy and set in stone,
each day I feel more alone.
If you had told me all those years ago,
that still today I have nothing to show for my torture, blood, sweat and tears
I’d simply shake my head and jeer
because there’s no way I’d have placed me here
drowning alone, drowning in fear.
I went on a bike ride, I was hyper-alert
I had just emerged from the mental ward
I thought I was despised, felt wounded and hurt
But I lied to the doctor to get out the door
For the first miles I felt the wind in my hair
Then a car drove by, I heard a loud jeer
It was just a dog with his nose in the air
I had mistaken my species, all was clear.
Two miles on, an ambush from the side
A loud sneer, I felt sudden stress
On closer look, a Downs Syndrome guy
I let out my breath, stress got less.
Got into Kingston, car passed, a shout
"Go Home" it said, and then passed by
Was this true, should I block it out?
Why riff off a chord, if the chord don't apply?
Ten miles later, a hand reached out of a car
Tried to push me off the road
They failed, but threw my mind's door ajar
Stress climbed, I felt I would explode.
I crested a hill, a view opened wide
Then I started to think, was it all the same?
Why get anxious, on this scenic ride?
My illusions and theirs - it' was all a game.
The slightest perception
of intended deception
~ jeers of rejection
I raise my glass against the creeping night,
And laugh at shadows clawing at my flame;
Let death come slow or fast-I hold my light.
For what is life if lived without a claim
To fire, music, madness, reckless cheer?
A sober world is sober than it's shame
So let the cautious tremble, clutching fear;
I'll dance where fear runs red as mortal blood,
And drown the ticking silence in jeer.
Let saints preach duty, labour, sweat, and mud-
Their sermons wilt beneath the club's loud roar;
I choose the storm,the glitter and the flood.
Though bones may crack and lungs may breathe no more,
My name will rise from every emptied cup-
A toast to nights that burned my spirits raw.
And when the final reckoning adds up,
Let death itself bow down before my spree;
I lived unchained, and never once looked up
In the hallways where whispers cut deep like a knife,
I walk with my head down, hiding my strife.
You're just thinkin' it's a small thing that happened,
But the world ended when it happened to me, unwrapped and unfastened.
Each taunt and each jeer, they echo and cling,
A chorus of shadows, they steal all my spring.
With every harsh word, I feel the weight grow,
In a sea of indifference, I’m drowning, you know.
You laugh and you jest, but you don’t see the tears,
The scars that I carry, the weight of my fears.
I long for a moment, just one hand to lend,
To show that I’m more than the target you send.
Afraid to ask
Afraid to cast
Afraid to hear
Afraid of jeer
Fear is delaying truth
Fear is growing from youth
Fear is reliving the past
Fear is irrational typecast
Asking diffuses fear
Talking reduces veering
Trying clears fear
Chose to steer
Life is an Act
As life marches on swiftly
As clocks tick incessantly
We, the shadows of existence
Act out our scenes
On the glorious global stage.
Are we heroes, are we failures?
Does the audience applaud or do they jeer?
Or do they bawl?
Our acts can enthrall
Or it can decimate us.
Are we role models?
Are we unworthy actors?
Do the youth stare in awe
Or do they cringe in horror?
What lessons are passed down?
What values are cherished?
Culture is eroded.
Language undergoes change.
Morals, ethics and values are mouthed
Devoid of meaning and understanding.
Words are spoken without feeling.
Actions robotic and plastic.
I fend with the wine
I hide with a laugh
I jeer at my time
Forlonging so as it pass
I stand with my defiance
I fall with pride
I swim through my failures
I lay my faults by the side
I never cease to care
I don't want my love to end
I stare at a vortex of hate
And i lost to that which i depend
Bing informative
the SCHWA sound
become the topic of the day
Dipithong, Dipithong
ooh, ooh wee!
Schwa:schwa!
the Schwa sound
the schwa sound is destroying me.
T notch filters.
Try to spook the others
they used unsafe tactics
that caused people
to boo and jeer.
The Schaw sound
shall maketh him
smarter
then he will never be in need
of these types of Chanagans.
Speakest Lammbeeria the Whorish Harlot of Dikkinism
Larghissimo!!!!!
that he shall streess in labor and shall be
poorest in Dipipothong. His streesses shall cause him the error
such oppurtunies shall allow others to have me as I am a whore.
Than pregant I shall say to him.
You'didist and now you must largemente with money. If this is real and I have no secrets. Denounce me that we have prominated on the shores of the Creeks and the ponds have feed us with fishes.
Drought the earthen shell fish-pow'da-pow-da, pow--dah !!!!!
grind the snouts to pow-dah!!!
Spoke the whorish harlot!!!!
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