Background B.B King it
You'll get home alone
A Quartering as Jazz
As quart and liter
As meter and mile
Footage and reconcile
Irish Quartermasters Gaurd
Kevin J. O'Meadhra
Trace as feather
Low of ash
Bury of quill
Fide et amore
Nightingales Ergo
Send in rot
Further, borrow
Scottish wreathing
Entangled Britain
Relent
They of leave
Twined as lecture
Recital of yellow
Beckon brown
Revile of green
Tustled hearth
Baby babysit looks like
It's gonna hail
Jump and jive
As sent to the SAG
In tawdry spent
The war is lent
The establishment of thy own
A hate filled thrown
As crimes as thine
Tinkle and toast
In a entire
Only as pure
The picture as haunt
Plagiarism
Stores front
Sufferer as complaint
In stilled poverty
I law
Joan had little art
Lythed command
Hinde weeps rather as waltz
Herculean task
Wardrobe mantle black
Opening Suggestion of Betrothed
True highbrows can't hear commoner's pleas
Stuck sitting on their swanky settees
Status fades as affluence recedes
I'd prefer pink orchids if you please
Elitists applaud wealthy reprise
Fake posers deceive masses with ease
Think that they deserve all that they seize
So send purple orchids if you please
Fools imagine themselves on marquees
Those who would toss it all to the breeze
Who can't see the forest for the trees
Bring me more red red orchids if you please
Cultures erode when no one agrees
Innocence shrinks slowly by degrees
Fairness appears a tawdry tease
I sigh for white orchids if you please
Feel for the needy brought to their knees
My selfish world of ten thousand mes
Flowers fail as empty pleasantries
Making these moments mere niceties
Their ma & pa were Eastenders
Blah blah..don’t remember the Blitz
Brash Cockney pretenders..same flash apparel
Let's get our mitts on a stash of Aperol spritz
Dimwits just going on benders
Bawdy tawdry mockney skits
Gits getting off their t*ts
Twits showing off their bits
Who fits?..Identikit Brits..pout
All about the clout of gaudy glitz
Silhouettes of stiletto dancers & handbags
Riff raff as naff as an 80’s cornetto
Perms & permatans..sl*gs..fancy dans in glad rags
Rhyming slang falsetto twang libretto
Chancers on a stag..s*ag nip & tuck hags
Nags of WAGS made up to the nines
Brag after cocaine lines did blag
One snag..look like a dag in drag
All from the fashion label stable
No restraint.. cannot refrain
Grandstand the brands fable
Diadora diaspora ..Fila Villa
With a Pierre Cardin Jardin
Taint just like they do in Spain
Sex..success…the way you dress
Prosecco fizz...getting in a tizz
Gilded specs and builded pecs
Greed and that need to impress
Avoid don't feed this schadenfreude hell
That is indeed called Costa Del ESSEX
from the forest deep she came
like one jaguar gently prowling
drawn there by my late-day flame
typhoon in the distance howling
black hair with a coal-blue sheen
eyes like ink that shimmered golden
linen sun dress white and clean
tawdry tan with charms embolden
white-cap sea foam licked the sun
softly tasted sweet its brightness
melting ‘pon that briny tongue
sav'ring still the fading lightness
there beside those aqua oceans
palm fronds laid beneath the moon
with sublime and torrid motions
we let loose our fleshed typhoon
high above the Perseids streaming
wept those skies bright tears of fire
wishes granted - we thus dreaming
meant for fools to quite inspire
flightless angel birthed of darkness
wrapped me with her pinions warm
sacred embers - cold and sparkless
lost within that summer’s form ...
lost in her - my perfect storm.
* did you notice the change in metre? *
I used to say come to London.' Yet not now.' The violence
Is spiralling.' There is less value wow.' Not of tawdry glam
And glitz and such.' Yet of life.. and futures they don't seem
Worth that much.' I know Blues familiy.' No nonsense folk
Now living a nightmare.' Delivered by the social enrichment
Joke.' In 'sad-diks london...Or londinistan.? Its violence in
The morning.' Afternoon, evenings.' Who's the next target?
There must be a plan.? As it seems systemic yet some dystopian
Action
Slam.' Against the values that have endured.' Through times
Hourglass sands.' As Christianity has been mocked indeed
Reviled.' So has lawlesness exploded.' Perceptions run wild.'
Rampant violence.' Has entered Englands womb.. And things arn't quiet..Nor will they be anytime soon.' Will there
Be justice by the authouritys.? The people require redress.'
Just look back three decades..It was never like this mess.!!!
If you live in Britain.' I advise raise your voice.' Or perhaps a
Finger or two .? Email inspector Christina Jessah.' Let the reckoning start with you.'
Lovely weather for Dunners' ducks (tongue in cheek peek at Dunedin's historic deluge)
"Stares upstairs..
Angels’ weeing above..
Be a good chap..
Show some love bruv..
Turn off the tap..
*****
No refuge from the subterfuge of the deluge..
Parched sandbag phalanxes..
Ranks marching in flanks..
Arching across busted banks..
Quaffing..scoffing..downpour spanks..
**********
Disbelief at the leisurely river Leith..
Despairing at it baring...glaring..teeth
Hurling....haring to unsheaf grief..
Mischief rashly unfurling…
Brashly whirling beneath.
Bawdry..tawdry thief...
******
Baffled..can't they see...squiffy South D in a jiffy downed..
Snaffled..drowned and raffled to the sea..
Don't they care...iffy white caps slaps..won't perhaps spare even sniffy..
Snooty..spiffy St Clair..
****
This rain ruckus.. pluvial palaver...
Whichever not whatever...
It totally sucks..
Planet forever in..
Fluvial flummoxed flux..
Tis rather lovely weather..
Though for Dunedin's ducks.."
She was purposefully brazen, garish and flashy
Daughter of Lee, who owned a haberdashery
Her outfits were razzle dazzle, glaringly loud
That’s my daughter, her daddy bragged to the crowd
People lined up to gawk to see what she would wear
Some of them made fun of her ensemble, but she did not care
Others yelled mean things to her – vulgar and tawdry
She loved being known as outrageous, glitzy and gaudy
They use lifes language
Wild that leaves me a divisive endorphin
Weathering veins rotted in paint
I ain’t throw in labor on it
One step up to my flawed character’s
Droopy’s tall comparative literature balks back
Tinsel in tawdry condition
And aft,?
Pause me apostrophe, young to effect safety
Check writers, cost long painful memory
Hostage of poverty
Cold war controversy
Big world drums and no cents
Mid day news in piercing loss
Not worth the screwy drip? I am
This poem was mused by:
"Shakespeare won't look at me" by ThomasW.Case
----------------------------------- --------------------------------
We fill our lives with work and stress
in the lust for new possessions
we're taught that this is called success
and it makes for good impressions
But pleasures we’re taught to suppress
so our souls will fly up to the heavens
but this flesh that god has gifted us
are our only true possessions
If we find ourselves casually undre$$ed
which is frankly, our natural condition
and if s3xual needs should be addressed
there’s no need for tawdry confessions
for pleasure is something to be expressed
if we’re alone or in a marvelous coalition
So I wish you satisfaction in el@tions quest
as you work the knobs, slants and levers
because this isn’t some kind of competition
P.S. Will Shakespeare was familiar with m@sturb@tion's guilty thrills.
"The expense of spirit, in a waste of shame is lust in action"
.
.
For a contest. This poem was mused by:
"Shakespeare won't look at me" by Thomas_W._Case © Anais Vionet
.
.
A song for this:
Flowers by Miley Cyrus
Once upon a time
I saw a gentlemouse with a hat sublime.
The richest mouse I’d ever seen, his hat a present from the queen
He was quite close with the queen he said, now that the king, her husband was dead
I have a secret he whispered with glee
The queen has promised to marry me!
The gorgeous hat he wore around was to be replaced by a crown.
I was so surprised by this tawdry fact, I completely forgot to ask
Was this a mouse queen of which I did not know?
Or had Queen Elizabeth a mousey Beaux?
Slaughterers of anonymous souls
Windows displaying tawdry tales of woe
Flashing neon lights restraining human kindness ~
Cities grind humanity into sausage for politicians & moles
'Twas a tawdry affair that trifles pittance fare,
A Qualified Judge.
~0~
Allied With Grudge.
~0~
Pride Did Smudge.
~0~
Backslide By Nudge.
~0~
Denied To Rejudge.
~0~
Teary-Eyed No Budge.
~0~
"FORGIVENESS"
"Implied?" ... "Theorized!"
"Her fate has already been decided ..."
"... and what of me ...?"
"Your fate will be defined."
In the woods lurks the grey angel;
Wingless and disillusioned, he awaits
The onset of diarrhoea,
Bismarck’s jocular displeasure
And the seagull’s lugubrious weightlessness –
Later than previously, he erects
A flag made of wormwood
Brought all the way
From the ceiling of an underground café in East Berlin -
He sighs….and it is like someone playing
A musical saw: it expresses harmoniously
His perpendicular musical soul –
Expecting nothing, he is perpetually disappointed
By the visitations of crones desirous of petty miracles,
Of repentant tax-gatherers requesting absolution,
On New-Age moongazers seeking enlightenment,
Of people who desire certainty, answers,
Of people who pursue truth and self-righteousness,
Of people who just want to see what an angel,
Any angel looks like. Only these curious rubbernecks
Touch his bland and ironic soul with a faint luminosity –
Their enthusiasm for life, if crass and tawdry,
At least provides the salt which otherwise
Has lost its flavour….a pity
That it just rubs salt into his wounds.
No Alice in Wonderland
Callous
Alice
Sacrificial Lamb
Blame me
Amy
Fan of the Panda Bear
Andie
Pandie
Miss Hollywood
Star Queen
Arlene
The Trifling One
Petty
Betty
One Gorgeous Redhead
Henna
Brenna
Miss Sophisticated
Classy
Cassie
Not so Sophisticated
Gassy
Cassie
Miss Detective
Police
Clarice
Fragile: Treat with Care
China
Dinah
Miss Flamboyant
Showy
Chloe
The Lesser of the Flamboyant ones
Tawdry
Audrey
The Laggard
Lazy
Daisy
The Imprudent One
Folly
Dolly
Stars in her Eyes
Eileen
Sky Queen
Earth Girl
Terra
Farrah
My thoughts conjure up witty words
that merge and converge in my mind;
like a murmuration of birds.
Feelings get released and aligned;
forming a poem line by line,
in which tawdry rhymes get refined.
My muse claims the poem is mine;
but that is not entirely true,
She supplies the polish and shine.
I was mute till She found my voice;
and imbued my poetic pen
with rhythm and rhyme; I had no choice.
I'm like a child in a playpen
whose imagination's free
to wonder every now and then.
My talent is God's gift to me;
expounding on the truths I see.
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