BogRhymes

His turn now stopping,
For the hearse has him wheeled
To his last journey today.
As they lowered his coffin,
In the next field
A tractor was turning the hay.
I know this is nothing,
I should let others yield
To mourning…
But for Jerry,
This rhyme is my way.
As they lowered his coffin,
In the next field
A tractor was turning the hay.

Nearly boiled,
Feeling spoiled.

Political news journalists,
Cream themselves.
The general public is,
In need of else.

Long days for a fortnight,
Nights last only a few hours.
And stately plump gentlemen,
Ascend Martello Towers.

Cameron’s speech at the least, deserves a mention,
Clear in it’s tone, and it’s intention.
38 years ago, one day of malevolence,
Now has less half-truths, more hard evidence.

More than eighty percent,
Want an alternative.
Less than one in five,
Want this government,
Yet, they survive, for years.
Because the opposition,
Are eternally crippled.
Internally combusting,
Politically dripping,
Wet, behind the ears.

Unnerving
Whirring
Unending
Blurring

Huge Spin Effort,
Hopeless Sack of Eejits.
Hardly Safe Ever,
Healing Self, Easiest.

After dragonfly days,
Of hazy heat.
Come the nasal sprays,
Of wet concrete.

They’re cutting the silage like crazy here,
The evening rumble of tractor and trailer.
I like the bustle on these days of the year,
A poetic struggle – an adjective failure.

After Israel’s latest and bravest,
Naval attack…
And then the spineless response,
Of the US and Barack…
It seems there’s stronger vertebrae,
In Bono’s back..!

I’ve stopped smoking,
Hooray..!
I’m six months,
Or so,
Nicotine free.
Now I’ve got,
A sore throat
Today,
And I feel like
A celibate,
Getting V.D.

If it stayed like this,
What would we do?
We would stray from bliss,
And go cuckoo.

Inside this house, there are four of us,
So long may death, be ignoring us,
Today the sun, is imploring us,
To get outside, it is glorious!

What the hell is going on?
Do fruit bats grope?
No, but they give head,
Apparently!
Academic ding dong,
Life’s stranger than soap,
Know that you must tread,
Warily!

Brady was a younger man,
Then.
But now he does wrong,
Again.