Remember the days of the redcoats,
Always there to help,
A family holiday it was all fun and games,
Competitions by the pool,
Knobbely knees and glamorous grannies,
Kids clubs so adults got a break,
Party games having a laugh.
Adults go out in evening,
Children asleep in bed the redcoats are on alert for children crying,
In the club a red coat holds a number up,
Mum goes to see to her child dad stays drinking.
Breakfast was in the canteen long tables and benches,
Everyone ate together everyone mixed,
All these things where paid for with the holiday,
You didnt need much money,
Butlins was great back then.
In the 80s Butlins went into decline they needed to change,
Kids wanted a lot more,
People started to go abroad for the sun,
Butlins now is arcades, fast food not within the price,
Now you pay through the nose,
It's not the same anymore.
Explosive birth pains with attendant white noise
With a will to prevail that’s just short of ice cream
And like popcorn, such friends are a "pop" in a pan
That has no aftertaste for this love’s just a dream.
Expect lots of fiber if plumbing is clogged,
With most calories sugar, digestion’s no sweat,
As it comes, so it goes, if you’re into such things,
But a quick high and methane are all that you’ll get!
You'll pay through the nose (cheap treats sell dear at show,)
With the heart's movements glacial; heart shatters; all's lost!
Though no prison's involved (for you've broken no laws),
Those who don't learn to add, can't discover the cost.
Long Tooth
May 3, 2018
Last night I dreamed Rhonda and I were so desperate for income that we either started or were hired by a grandma sex hotline.
I don't remember a lot of the dream but I remember taking one call, and I provided a narrative something like, "Well hello Billie! Yes this is your grandma. Have you been being a good boy? Would you like to know what grandma's wearing tonight?"
I woke thinking holy crap where'd that come from. I bet there are lots of grandma fetish dudes out there though, that's probably a good idea for a sexline business. Oh wait, of course it is, there are probably hundreds of them already.
I told Rhonda the dream and she said maybe it could be done without the sex, just a hotline for anyone who misses or wished they had a grandma.
Yeah, someone might like that phone call if it was free, but to pay through the nose by the minute, they gotta have a brain-addling woody.
It's not just black and white,
Not simply he or she —
It all comes down to one thing:
A ruling ideology.
Who cares about reality,
When truth is kept at bay?
No right or wrong, no higher ground,
Just what the leaders say.
Politicians send our sons to war,
To die on distant, foreign shores.
And why? What is it for?
To guard their grand ideology — nothing more.
They come back home, try to find a place,
But council flats have left no trace.
Sold to fat cats with a grin —
That’s ideology once again.
Is my moral compass broke?
We pay through the nose for gas and light,
Water bills that drain us tight —
All part of corporate appetite,
Fueled by ideology cloaked.
Let’s take a vote — in or out —
And fifty-two percent shout “leave!”
But MPs twist and weave and doubt,
They’ve got their own beliefs to grieve —
That’s ideology, no reprieve.
Now let’s get real, and make it quick,
No more playing politics.
This world turns not on thoughts alone,
But actions — roots, and sticks, and stone.
Ideology might light the spark,
But it won’t guide us through the dark.
So let’s wake up, and truly see —
This world needs more than ideology.
Pick out the flowers – pay through the nose;
Vendors take all they can get, I suppose.
Treat her to dinner, give her a kiss;
Mothers have waited all year just for this.
If she lives distant, pick up the phone;
Tell her how much all the kiddies have grown.
Mail her a package, pick out a card;
Then you’ll be covered in that whole regard.
Yes, it’s all hokey and silly and trite;
Still, not to do it just wouldn’t feel right.
This is the day we must all celebrate;
Tomorrow won’t cut it - you can’t do it late.
If you’re a mom, then enjoy all the fluff,
Though really, it never could be quite enough.
All of our efforts, while often ignored,
Have taught us that motherhood is our reward.
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