The servo sign flickers.. then punches your soul..
Numbers climb higher than you can control.
You stare at the price like it’s taking the piss..
“Wasn’t it cheaper? What madness is this?”
You tap on the pump like it might be a glitch..
Like somehow the numbers will drop if you twitch.
But nah, they keep climbing, no mercy in sight..
That shortage excuse rolled out day and night.
We laugh with our mates, “Yeah, she’s brutal, no doubt..”
But under that humour, there’s stress creeping out.
Bills stacking higher, the budget stretched tight..
While headlines spin causes we can’t really fight.
They point at the markets, the wars, and the trade..
At deals that were signed and the choices once made.
Global decisions, far out of our hands..
Still land at the pump where the average one stands.
So we joke and we whinge, ‘cause what else can we do?
When the tank’s nearly empty and payday’s not due.
We laugh at the madness, but deep down we know..
It’s more than just fuel.. it’s the cost of the blow.
Sports drug testers
Are all such jesters
But just remember this.
They’ll watch you see
When you have a wee
They’re always taking the piss.
Appalling.. hard not to diss the taking the piss
No not talking about the corking bliss of Travis
Bazball calling card just a scarred hubris abyss
Head’s rabid ripsnorter slaughter so rapid
Livid our boys stupid not vivid instead vapid
Fan fury wishing they will stop fishing
Hack jury dishing out flak still swishing
Go toe to toe with our oldest coldest foe
Blow by blow new low ego the worst woe
Wickets in a row..have a go free flow they all crow
Forget every aficionado all about Bazball bravado
Can hear them say no other way to play we know
Can’t teach reach each puppet that Mac did bestow
Beseech after another breach it’s the Muppet show
Boycott & Vaughan did warn along with many ex baggie greens
After the laughter at rafter of dafter scenes…still chill your beans
Really.. Stokes bespoke blokes choked were smoked...“Has Beens”!
When instinct becomes
an educated guess
And improvisation
demands quick redress
Like thinking on one’s feet
if too drunk to stand
Be found all at sea
throwing up on dry land
Twisted situations
we find ourselves in
When bundles of joy
reek original sin
Smack on the butt
for showing a bit of cheek
Do everything perfect
be labelled a freak
Gestures, signals,
often appear to confuse
High five, fist bump
a sweaty handshake defused
One or two fingers:
the bird a sign of peace
Kneel with respect
submissive purr on a leash
Diversions, promises,
never black and white
Passive aggression
silent treatment for slight
Jack in the box, ripper
jumps out with a knife
Break a leg, for the
performance of his life
Police warning: never
mess around with guns
Gut reaction sparks a
stampede, or the runs
Playing it very cool,
whilst feeling much heat
Praying devoutly,
burnt at stake for deceit
Sticking out one’s tongue
in contempt, no a kiss!
Sigh of relief
they were just taking the piss
Such is living, such is death
come friend or foe
On second thoughts
syllabic verse, or sh!tshow
By David Kavanagh
hms
The 10th July 2009
7 soldiers died on the front line
Panthers Claw the op was called
Sangin district is where we toured
2nd battalion the rifles had a few bad days
With many a soldier still in that haze
Sangin DC or Fob Rob to others
Left a lot of grieving mothers
The worst fatalities in all the years
Fighting insurgents bringing with it tears
You can't help but to think why
Another of service men and women should die
Others left with life changing injuries
From gunshot wounds to triple amputees
Swift and bold the motto was
But leaving the gates everyone was anxious
Even today 14 years on.
Soldiers struggling feeling they don't belong
Mentally and physically exhausting it is
The mind playing games taking the piss
Rifleman Simpson and Rfn jo Murphy
Cpl Jon horne and Cpl Scot Lee
James backhouse and Sgt Paul mcaleese
William Aldridge lives taken with ease
I know war is war
And casualties happen
But why should this be
Those who survive get PTSD
Oh not again,
It's the same every night.
Straight after tea
You sit down and write.
Writing your poems
And the stories you tell,
It wouldn't be so bad
If you wrote them to sell.
Don't get me wrong
It's not about money,
Some that you write
I think are quite funny.
But the car is a mess
The gardens overgrown.
If your not writing poems
Your playing on your phone.
I work every day,
And I come home to this
To a sink full of pots,
Are you taking the piss.
I never know whether to listen or hear,
Step away when you cry or be catching your tear,
Flood you with love or play hard to get,
Be annoyed when it’s hard or turned on when it’s wet,
I struggle to juggle the feelings I feel,
To know if my thoughts are imagined or real,
To give you enough or take what you need,
To think that your trapped or know that your freed,
Am I overthinking or under thought,
Is it better to fight,
Or is that why we fought,
Should I always be honest and tell you the truth,
Or would that be naive and slightly uncouth,
I don’t want to lose you or force you to stay
I over analyse all that you say,
I know it’s crazy it’s taking the piss,
I don’t even know if I should show you this.
This is the truth of what’s in my head,
During the day and laid in my bed,
This is inside of my anxious mind,
This is the wall that I hide behind.
I can no longer hold my tongue
I’ve got my knockers and my mockers
Oh, and I can’t forget the blockers
So you badmouth me on FB behind my back
Let rip with your vitriol and go on the attack
With your false humility and humble claims
You are chock full of bull crap, playing games
Well…
I’m telling you this
Stop taking the piss
Here is my butt. I'd be remiss
if I didn't offer it for you to kiss
Go ahead skunk; make my day
release your stinking spray!
Oh, there's just one thing I have to say...
I don’t do 'two-faced book' anyway!
Judgmental people and haters contest
sponsored by Brenda Chiri
A note to whoever is being so nasty to Robert … you must be jealous of his talent for writing poetry and you should be ashamed of your behaviour!
08-11-17
Yawn
Yawning
I am in love with my bed
While my bloody alarm
Pains my head
Got to get up
Snooze button stuck
Because if I wish to remain employed
And i don't arise from my pit
I am in serious shite
As I am on my final warning
At this point how I would give anything to be rich
Because work is a *****
That money could fix
My head to my bed
And waking to the dread
Of i can't believe my life has come to this
Are you taking the Piss
How to take a leak
Marcel felt quite an urge when he set out to purge understanding of how to when
we view misconceptions of who is taking the piss now never thereafter and then
A fountain trickling urinal porcelain pissoir on display impressed me no doubt in
treacherous confusion of images since relief in museums constitutes phallic sin
When streams of revisionist consciousness meet with surreal ‘truth’ of ablutions
seeming paradoxes cleanse body and mind in contextual and continent solutions
A fragmented human condition does not improve with rigid caged in perceptions
in which mindless dogma clearly resists benefits of antiauthoritarian disinfection
Are glass ceilings real are vessels of thought and flush toilets congested or empty
do ivory towers reveal liberation and freedom achieve status of fully cognoscenti
Nothing what it seems is Duchamp's message in a showcase of lavatorial pride
colonising minds need disclosure critique confrontation urinating against the tide
When cognition feeling and action with knowledge have reached full critical vision
I reach for a fountain pen so whether this is a poem or not remains your decision
16th May 2017
The poet smoking grass
Or the athlete takin steroids,
'C..R..E..A..T..I..V..I..T..Y'
Or a world full of androids.
White canvas hung up there
Or is the artist taking the piss?
Just ask him the question
He'll say 'It's only what it is.'
The faces of the decent
Or extremists wanting more?
The clever sparkling woman
Or the dinner party bore.
The Muslim or the Catholic?
The Christian or the Jew?
The unique are all around us
Yet remain very few.
Why do I feel so very down?
Is this feeling going to last a long time?
I cannot laugh nor even a smile,
I hope the pain fades in a while.
My heads messed up, I cannot think,
Should i pop some pills or heavily drink?
I'm tired of *****like this,
I'm sure my chap is taking the Piss!!
Why is he doing this to me,
Flirting with my friends recently?
He says he loves me but does he I wanna know?
If he doesn't then **** it I'll just pack up and go.
I don't want to hurt anymore,
My life feels like one big chore.
I may aswell end it, no-one wants me here,
At least then my head will finally be clear.
I guess now is the time for me to go cos I cant feel any lower
than low.
I don't know if I'm ready to die but at least I will be with the Angels in the sky.
So goodbye to you all, I know I will see you again,
Finally I'm free...I see the light...Theres no more pain.
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