Da Vinci Bottecelli & Michelangelo
a trio circa Raphael ' don't cha know'
Yet each now a famous 'individuelle'
queues at Art galleries is how you tell
So Instagram is a sham
Everyone seems smitten
With posts about a kitten
Or hosts who hate Britain
Or boasts so badly written
Toasts flam & are all bitten
Goddam is just like spam
Famalam use as a babysitter
Wham bam for any dimwitter
Won’t scram will be a big hitter
Instagram is just glam glitter
Oh please look at me vanity
Narcissist wheeze is insanity
Tease with another profanity
Disease crippling all humanity
Pedants on pews lives fritter
Algorithm queues like twitter
Bottom feeder ruse you critter
Needier travesty tapestry knitter
Greedier fuse lit & now shi*ter
Seedier impropriety just litter
Social media a society splitter
Notoriety trolls scrolls flitter
Anxiety but folks will still titter
Piety for botox you’ll be fitter
Ham it up cash cow AI lie spitter
Kowtow get no views so just bitter
Kapow a scam not some Ashram
Stop cropped photoshopped slop
They cram in a half baked pitta
Instagram is bust and just a sham
Simply absurd
Heard the news
Snotty residents
On pedants pews
Clear precedents
Vice do choose
Drive us potty
In arty farty mews
Latte & biscotti
With dotty views
Party always grotty
Spice will lose
A slutty hotty
Putty in her hand
Seedy queues
For smutty totty
Or bit of botty
Plenty of booze
A nutty hinterland
Hear our boos
Us well manned
Against this ruse
So underhand
With their coups
Good times banned
Westminster eschews
In pubs can't stand
Everyone poo poos
That's what's planned
If papers peruse
Chaos canned
Soho's Blues
Ask me something easier
Mama used to say
When I wanted reasoning
Why it goes the way
No one says good word about
Yet they do agree
With those they can live without
Pretty easily
If the fools are able
To control the wise
What’s the wisdom’s fable?
How it satisfies
Is it dialectic
Or a consolation
That comes off too hectic
Closer to frustration?
Why the chosen rulers
Aspire to be great?
Why the fools can fool us
Are we that afraid?
Why do they contest?
Can’t they live a little?
Why there is no rest
For the wicked people?
Why the time can’t stop?
What’s the point in queues
If they can bring up
Anything we choose?
Why the sun and moon
Shine too bright this summer?
Why you’ve gone too soon
Poor little Mama?
Clouds fill the sky
Does it smell like rain?
I’m not sure, it’s dry
I can hear the train
Come over the bridge
To the other bank
But I have no speech
All my questions sank.
Heard the news all about strait of Hormuz
Israel derail flail impale Septic tanks muse
Evisceration of entire nation excuse do use
The emancipation of a pariah state the ruse
Eschews queues of pundit crews from pews
Abuse truths confuse proof of sleuths views
Clues bright clear hues who did light the fuse
Whichever side you choose everyone will lose
Fossil fuel rule the soaring price of a barrel
Notoriety of warring society as things unravel
Deploring apparel Dickensian dystopia carol
Impropriety imploring piety noone can travel
Trump myopia even after alarm of Vietnam
Cruise missiles trials denials all about harm
Disarm nuclear piles more lies from the farm
Can’t becalm not napalm just arm AI wiles
No qualm war once more hush defile isles
Crush the rush of plush paedophiles files
people have always wanted answers to the big questions
ten dollar parking across the street
unfriendly, loud-mouthed and rude tour guides
queues and lines and queues
one bloke accidently took his vehicle up the driveway
and was yelled at
i'm actually on the driveway
the theory of everything
my friend went to visit the grave of Yasujiro Ozu
and was also yelled at.
let's publish a book of instances detailing pilgrimages,
in which people have taken the wrong path and
been yelled at
ruminations and caught in a trap
why is everything murder?
Farmer's Market mornings a parade of colourful awnings
Day dawning.. folks with a basket just awoke still yawning
Blokes fawning over what bespoke stalls are spawning
Queues peruse.. muse.. stroke & choose without warning
Arable fables & orchard parables the tables are adorning
So many lives destroyed by greed.
Too many hungry mouths to feed.
The rich blame the poor for being lazy and feckless.
The poor blame the rich for being greedy and reckless.
The wealthiest hide funds in offshore accounts
The poor must work harder for meagre amounts.
People are divided so the markets may prosper.
Whilst queues at foodbanks continue to grow longer
Refugees escape from terror and wars.
Dreaming of landing on welcoming shores.
Condemned by the establishment, who don’t want them stay.
Yet happily spend all the taxes they pay.
Governments are chosen by media manipulation.
Then fight their cause with enhanced reputations.
Our press is controlled by the wealthiest few.
So, who really decides what we see in the news?
These are political issues, but many don't care.
Yet the wealth divide remains massively unfair.
Too many believe there’s no other choice.
So, stand up and be heard, coz we all have a voice.
plane, bus 'n train
elevators 'n escalators
revelers 'n sale-day crowds
is where we meet
STRANGERS!
looking away,
with no eye-to-eye contact
no nod, wink, grunt of 'Hi's',
never ever recognizing
the sharers of the commons
shoved together
withdrawn incognito.
Here for thee be :
The Ten Commandments of Crowd Etiquette
Thou Shalt Honor Thy and Their Personal Bubbles
Thou Shalt Not Partake in Olfactory Betrayal
Thou Shalt Not Greet Strangers with a Nod, Only with Indifferent Defiance
Thou Shalt Yield Thy Seat only to the Ill, with-Child, Frail, Aged & the Lovely
Thou Shalt Stand Thy Ground, Letting Others Squeeze Pass Reluctantly
Thou Shalt Not Covet Another’s Seat or Space
Thou Shalt Keep Thine Phone Silent at Thine Side, and Do Not Speak
Thou Shalt Bear No Grudges for Shoves, Humphs & Grunts in Tight Spaces
Thou Shalt Honor all Queues, Despite their Length and Thy Lateness
Thou Shalt Yen the Zen of Strangers in Common Humanity
On the morrow good enough
If good enough be true
On the morrow time enough
Today the times are few
What once was said
Is said once more
In never ending queues
Till tomorrows become yesterdays
Todays an endless muse
On a nameless night, under a sky sprinkled with extinguished stars,
Thoughts trickle like oil in the engine of an old dream,
And I, a lost acrobat, sway on the thin thread of life,
Trying to grasp in my palms the essence of a world that smolders quietly.
You don't have to write to feel poetry in your veins,
It's there, in the smell of gasoline and the smoke rising to the sky,
In the eyes of the one who fills tanks with untold stories,
A poet without words, dancing among car queues and time.
I am an artist of the trapeze, not fitting into molds,
With my heart suspended between a yesterday and an uncertain tomorrow,
Each leap a long verse, each catch a moment of grace,
For between falls and flights, true poetry is born.
So, in the silence of the night, among ticking engines,
I wonder, who am I to name my art?
A trapeze artist of destiny, a dreamer in the shadow of light,
Or perhaps just a soul that knows how to breathe poetry without words.
Inflamed beneath a midday fear, that novelist's story unfolds,
Shone angles trending 'neath the Earth to switch sparks till cold,
Zeal queues the chosen to fire calm suite blissful psalms dreams swirl,
Gemmed Ivory and Ebony, host o'er our bejeweled Pearl.
Cerise bond Earth and Sun transcend comes precious Grace our King,
Brahms strummed an awesome, clueless stray queue cheer chorus sing.
Queue cheer chorus sing. (Refrain)
Cerise bond Earth and Sun transcend comes precious Grace our King,
Brahms strummed an awesome, clueless stray queue cheer chorus sing.
Queue cheer chorus sing. (Refrain)
Queue cheer chorus sing. (Refrain)
Queue cheer chorus sing. (Refrain)
White flags with invincible dots of black.
Dark clouds covering the sky's slack,
Hunting down every tear shed
only to end up faking the perfect smile.
Lines; lining up to make longer lines
in queues of different shapes of life.
Lines; lining up in ascending order
in comparison to different stages of life.
Longer; it increases,
As life pierces with spears,
Then sobers up in tears.
Long — longer than infinity,
With past passing batons,
Creating different seasons,
From falling to rising,
To rising to fall,
Then failing to succeed…
Longer; again it increases,
Fitting into each season,
With happenings happening for a reason
Because
He — the Maker — takes these long lines
to mould the perfect shape
That will align with the lines needed
To make it all radiate at the finish line.
The civilization of askers
Waits in the world of deciders
The queues tend to go faster
The lost need to find their finders
Any road needs an excavation
Some fenced pits of debris
What looks clean needs contamination
Regardless if some may disagree
I need to take my annual tests
Maybe I’ll get new prescriptions
I won’t mind to get more rest
Can’t give you a thorough description
How do I feel about this old day
In the world of deciders
The askers should know their place, they say
Maybe the web needs more spiders.
Around around around iwe igo
more fake poems fraudsters show
autistic infamy
the ability to see patterns and queues
who do you think you really fool?
other than old farmers who do not care
his chickens cluck as much as you click
ai ai woah
ai ai No!
Bonus Verse added completely free for your reading pleasure!
And I
have to say
no more Jaywalking
wheely stop it
simply obey
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