Short Eer Poems

q*eer canucks be warned
    the state of the states at stake~

           freedom conundrum...

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A-bove a mountain looking down
B-irds asleep not yet singing 
D-eer darting everywhere
E-ach of them with smiling faces
F-inding me alone must be a joke to them...

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"balderdash"


there once was a man named Lear
it can be said it can't be quite clear

if none of the nonsense he wrote
would in a pea-green boat float

but he wasn't King or Norman
that's q*eer...

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too much on the bloody mind,
canna concentrate half the time,
write about the demons babe,
put in words what eer ya crave,
let exageration calm the wit,
pump words out a little bit,
n have a great time....

thanks you p.d.

Don...

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I tru so hard to be perfect
Its never good enough
Eer little mistake i make
Its like the end of humanity
No one is perfect
How hard is that to understand
Nothing i ever do is accepted
Why cant you just love me
Me and all my little imperfections
Why is it so hard for you to tdo that
Why can you accept me for me 
Mom...

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R-ead the good memories
O-f the old passing year; 
S-tay away from blank look, 
E-ven wanton gaze or
L-eer.

P-leasant and good memories
A-im to brighten your birthday; 
T-uesday twenty-sixth of December
I-s warming the blue skyway.
A-llow your mind to remember every dawn and morning breeze; 
M-iss not to recall the time of your heart's good memories....

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Met die skare wat skree 
In die hoop van U wederkoms 
vir die lof van U majesteit 
met my hart weer aan U gegee 
wil ek die wereld bewys 
dat U in my verhuis

Aan U behoort lof, eer en soveel meer, 
want deur die Bloed van U Seun, 
het U ons geseen, 
om n nasie te word 
wat op U sal steun

Soos Israel in die woestyn 
is ons geloof soms te klein 
om te begryp wat ons in U kan kry....

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Nancy Jones, 

on ya babe yer twice as good, 
a mate for sure who understood,
 me madness.
Death can come when eer it wants,
 i'll spring about n ponce,
 with just a little sadness... 
see you on the other side,
 when death does take me for a bride,
i wanna be the bridegroom...
i'll rattle on, can't find a tune,
 sidestep dodge the bloody moon,
johnson's locked away 4 badness? 
  addled with some gladness......

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Insanity constantly enslaves and mocks
No break, no pause, the appetite always knocks
Enough, never registers, his life, it sucks
Beer and gin, in his long gut line up and flock
Rich pockets, poor soul, behind the prison’s lock
Inversely proportional life, on the pluck
Always emptying bottles all round the clock
Time is in motion but his, suffers a block
End of this story is bottom of the rock...

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My ship has not bubbled
beneath the eer' of my moat,
but battles come
I will be done,
and my queendom shall be sunk.

What will the others pronounce,
as they measure me gram for ounce,
and the people will fly me home
to misfortune bay?

Will my anchor last the living
till they sail the days?

I'll whisper you my pennies.
I'll carve out the trove,
but in it you'll not find the names.

Trust in empty spaces
and geld insanity,
it'd be without these tools
there we'd see....

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