Knicks ~ clicked
Spurs ~ licked
Brunson ~ top gun
Wemby ~ all done
The reader of this title
probably thinks I'm on a bender
It's all about some comfort
I've not abandoned my male gender
For some years now leather belts
are causing pain around the hips
Now I get a pair of panty hose
and cut it into strips
The way I live my life
is far removed from orthodox
The strips hold up my shorts alone
many years since I adorned myself in jox
So men now take yourself into a lingerie boutique
get some panty hose to make a stretchy belt
Wrap it round your belly
so much comfort never felt
Sometimes when wearing zipless tighter shorts
it's difficult to lift the trouser leg when there's a need to pee
But elasticity of the panty hose means
top of shorts are quickly lowered so now willy's running free
Footnote: perhaps I am showing my age here talking about panty hose . For those unaware
they are female attire, a form of stockings and jox or jocks maybe an Australian colloquial term for mens underwear
lol. get click baited.
there isn't no poem.
just me.
and you.
and your thoughts.
hmm...
I have an idea!
how about a game?
duck, duck, goose, how about that?
no? ok
just comment your favourite, food.
yeah, good enough game.
ok, get commenting.
I'm off.
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ok bye.
bible
slime block!
who wears short shorts?
WE WEAR SHORT SHORTS!
four really pretty teen girls.
A happy singing commercial created in the eighties.
I was stunned by their enthusiastic joy and prettiness.
I cannot remember what they were selling.
Maybe panty hose?
But I still sing their jingle fifty years later.
a fairy tale of Camden Town
Clancy’s Gym, the same old sounds
a minute’s rest then two more rounds
I’ll jack this in (like Bobby Prewitt)
but where’s the one who made me do it?
He hasn’t come, he’s never here
by now he’s on his second beer
presiding in the Dublin Castle
surrounded by his navvy vassals
they’re calling me “the Tralee Tiger”
I coulda been … where’s my Rod Steiger?
the jolting jab, fast on his feet,
the bantamweight that no-one’s beat…
my bucket? Something-Saint-John’s-Wood
and scum from gumshields, spit and blood
I’ve learnt a word I like – “effete”
You don’t hear that on Albert Street
He knows I never wanted this. He
said he’d cure me called me cissy
he calls me Rocky. What a sham
why can’t I be the thing I am?
I want to dance like Nureyev
which might explain the fury of
the shellacking that this lad’s getting
Look at those losers busy betting
Sad old slobs with Patterson poses
ten-buck suits and flattened noses
come to think, though, who’s the fool
they’re not up here on this stool
back room Clancy’s Masculine Sports
blood on the gloves, shamrock on the shorts
Still hope we can cope
With the nope
Don’t give a damn plan
From that Tandoori tan
Obscene Tangerine dope
Jackanory Mandarin Man
That trope..like to be Pope
Go out on a limb..got the vim..scope
To make him of the grim...dim..whim..mope
Just give Mr Grope enough Rope
Opined women..a frump
If they mind.. some bump & grind
Half inching while pinching their rump
The darkness descends
Besotted with anything cosseted
Rotted or garrotted by design
But sign on the dotted line
Raise a 'Stein" of wine
Knaves..slaves.. saved
From the craze & blaze
Of this moral maze & haze
Extinguished by depraved waves
From distinguished graves
Denies his demise is nigh
Popularity sky high he lies
Bliss as the remiss abyss
Of hiss and diss ends
Thanks to a sly bit of
Wry Fab Four rapport
No not you say hello...but yes I say goodbye
Off with his head the French might have said
Cos we've read we'll get by instead
With a little help from his (dead) friends
Cohorts of suits distort
Court the last resort
Damnation of immigration
Onslaught in cahoots cavort
Pander to propaganda slander
Escort darker fraught faces
From other races caught
To starker places.. shunted
Hunted like a sort of sport
History debunked
“Before” skunked & kerplunked
Lore of Yore junked
Fossil fuel full sumps
Well More is More
Trees flump become clumps
Of gnarly snarly stumps
Petrol pumps pour
Sheriffs thumps any grumps
Tariffs Gazumps…prices soar
Ready for the final encore?
Don't give a jot or
A sod this lot
On your tod..just nod
Seedier greedier leaders
Stun..Shun the Needier
Not just down trodden
Sodden...run roughshod
Beseech each of those clowns..down
In the dumps chumps who chose
Plumps for stealthy
Leeches who teaches
Fools at our schools
Only the wealthy can stay healthy
No education for the nation
Uses...abuses..eschews..media issues..then sues
Argy bargy - sarky malarkey ensues
Bemuses readers…forsake news as fake
It's a Maga Saga ruse for f**ks sake
No immigration...deplore integration
To restore order…close the border
Hardcore race riot diet of denigration
Likes 60's generation segregation
Damnation not salvation..just devastation
Satsuma Tumour
Sense of Humour?
That Groomer Rumour
Cometh the Hour
Cometh the TAN!
People Power Glower should Flower
Grassy brassy knolls
But proles at the polls
Sold their Souls
To joust like Faust
Ignore Marcel Proust
Cower before the Ivory Tower
Odd bod elite’s law
Tweets of Sod and God
No Enlightening
Repeats the prism
Or algorithm beats
Every criticism schism
“Ism”..a frightening..lightning rod
Pot..black..kettle knack
Debauched cheats pedal to the metal
Out of whack flak attack
Unsettle our mettle
Plot to settle that score
Scorched and torched serfs
Any petal in fine fettle
& the earth's core
Tandoori or Tangerine Tan?
Mister rich lister Blister
Sinister Mandarin Minister
Sin..Spin & Chagrin Talisman
Jaundice scrotum prejudice totem
Prime time Pantomime
Podium pandemonium
Needs Imodium...clearly feeds Opprobrium
As this git dearly did his bit
No boom just bust
To ensure the sh*t really hit the fan
Just one more time!
A Drink of Let Go
Hardy Levis shorts
Stuckup seesaw
Let go of forgot
Now playing
To my mistakes Sounds of chord Shapes in time
Echo at the end before
The meeting has begun
I can't let go
I say what is life
On any casual day
Will I miss the flowers and the.trees
There's a girl over there
we latch on instantaneously
To each others soul
Maybe she can help Maybe setup my life
Maybe I can live again and always do whats right
But I am really living in someone else's dream
Iam seen praying to a human replicator
Praying not to be changed
Serving mischief
Marinated reefer
Wrapped up and traded for gunpowder
The money man
Final wish
Shark food
Shorts up his ****,
Not moving very fast,
Shorts are too mini,
You see too much skinny,
Hand down his pants,
As if there were ants,
The “fit” of his shorts,
Made our lunch aborts,
Fiddling fiddling all the time,
In his teeny tiny shorts the colour lime,
Slick and wet they are so tight,
Will he get out of them…
He might (not).
Graduation
Limbs that quake with nerves
Soon stiffen.
An extended arm, poker straight,
Leads her across the stage
Slowly and gracefully
To the next, unwritten page of her life.
She wields her knowledge
As her writing tool
And begins to jot out the future.
Heartbreak
Love that no longer lingered
In that tired, battle-worn heart,
Was soon replaced by the heaviness
Of dark, wet cement,
Hardening and grounding her.
In that scarred heart,
Love could find new ways to bloom,
Chipping away at the cement
To form some beautiful sculpture.
Pandemic
How much longer?
Fervor is festering within the walls,
Confined in small space,
Gearing up to burst.
Let them out, let them breathe.
The days repeat an endless cycle,
The actions forgotten
In the amnesia of elongated sleep.
How much longer?
Coming Out
Comfort and meaning can be found
In the draping of rainbow flags
And the joyous stupor of marching
Alongside understanding strangers.
Absolved of the sin of lying,
She now stands free.
A new kind of love blooms within her,
Big as a bright yellow sunflower
And purer than Alpine snow.
Anxiety
Breathe in, breathe out.
The crawling of the skin is real,
Repelled by the way
Prying eyes touch and poke and prod.
Even if nobody stares, everybody stares.
Breathe in, breathe in.
If she breathes out the skin will crawl again.
Breathe in, breathe in, breathe in,
And hold.
Depression
No difference now
Between her lifeless, shallow-breathing visage
And the stains on the walls
Left behind by negligence.
Tired eyes follow ticking time
As it slips right by her,
Through the crack in the window
And into the cacophony
Of urban joy beyond.
Crabs
Small feet pounding the pebbled path,
Desperate to escape
From imminent danger.
Eight legs and two claws
Advance in their thousands
Upon their prey; the child.
Refuge is sought in an adult's arms,
High up and away from
The frightful crustacean march.
Roman
Crimson red and blinding gold
Balanced upon ber small head.
Blonde hair cascades from beneath
In trestles of tight curls.
She leads her troops around ancient streets,
With a smile as bright as the rays
Of the almighty Sol's coronet.
Her lips uttered words of old
That soon resigned to memory.
Hong Kong
The humidity of warm daytime
Gives way to icy harbor air of nighttime.
Man-made neon dances on the water's surface
While natural moonlight seems to target her,
Illuminates her.
Tsim Sha Tsui's streets are hectic,
But its back alleys provide shelter,
And shaved ice with its sweet, milky taste,
Melts on her tired tongue.
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