politics

One Day

/ rrishi99 / Leave a comment

I have the feeling I am not dressed correctly
Am I in need?
Pudsey on the dancefloor
Aunt Jemima to the local Nursery School…
… they played me like a football team
The dreamers
The people who saw the goals of Universities
Like men and please the right people
Stay on top of Church, State and Steeple.

I fell over
All the way down
And then down again
When I thought I could not get any lower
I was battered like a Cod piece to the floor for remission.
What if I caught Cancer and had to go to a commission?
Smoke, fire and abnegation,
Sir, surrounded by the crowd
Being allowed
I abused my freedoms since school –
Now.

Correctional facility
Too many computer games for me
Things I am hubristically aware of:
Shorts and shirt sleeve order to take care of,
Eastenders, Corrie and Charles, William and George.
Careful of the devil’s gorge
And the leap of faith required for tired old know it alls.

Testing my faith with the Conservative vs Ed Balls
He was quite an ensemble for her
I saw the pageantry where the Ice Man cometh
GWB and the marching band Tattoo:
This is for the Yankee models in you.

Do they need you in a pinstriped suit
I remember him like I licked his boot
Now. I am back at Church
Seeing life from the corner angle with the Angels
Living like a shadow of openness in the lurch
Creeping like a dowry of nature
Science and the creepers
Gardening and the jeeps carouseling across the deserts
Where the new men have not yet tried the Colonialising twirl.

Dream to jump
A person stretching out of my seat
Maybe I have Yogis to meet
Why can’t I just stay at home and get the job done?
Things they did to women with a bun in the oven
Maybe I have karma to collect from the witches in a celebrity Coven?
Time and the haphazard way
Of organising your thoughts like water.
Sadly, I am gladly without son or daughter –
Things that got in the way of complete collapse and devastation
No divorce for me, Mama: I’m still a one way success driven nation (boy).

Work and the development of futurity
Time for the hurt in me
Modern Slavery
Acts of Parliament ahead of her and I
Me, me, me
Narcissism and the recovery pose
Just this time – think of all you know
You, you, you
Who?

Time for the boy in you
I don’t look right without my toys and friends crew.
Have you seen where my ideal day went and what I have seen?
I would like to be there with you when you know what I mean (?).

Stumbling Blocks

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As I reach for the shelves in thew kitchen by the stove
I am reminded of the terror that is beside the one and only Karl Motherfucking Rove.
To whistle while I work and Twerk the PWNed out of my aunt’s autonomy
And let me know what Masala Gandhi took when he is after my lobotomy.

Then there is the tomorrow man who never comes knocking at my door
Like a lightsaber from Wesley Clarke Jr who is always ready for some more,
Action from The Young Turks in case disaster is what he did
When he said he accomplished missions while playing with Iraq’s Id.

Stop, look and listen as I motion towards the cooking pot
To add my own ingredients from an Israeli object I find quite some hot,
Without the flare of Obama’s arms shipments a few days before peaky blinders
And elections from Oprah Chopra that shame me never to calendar reminders.

Left, right, twirl: It’s as if the beauty queen has moved in next door
And the man with his pigeons next to my garden’s broken fence
Is alight with the prospect of solving the problem of Noam Chomsky’s problem whores,
Whence they came and Whence they will lead off to: The Economic Zoo,

For Greenspan to sap the homo-sapiens and let isness leave us ashamed for a few
More days of Clinton on The Daily Show telling time what to do
With memory and desire when the pants are on fire from the youth
That don’t know what lies can come and go like life for me and you.

Me and you oscillating like a rhythm on the shoes of universal disorder
That soaks me in bathtubs for depression to get back to working life order
Where the nights are full of colour and the days have their dark sides too
And men can call up women and date on websites along with the human zoo.

X-Men zooming in on me and zooming in on you,
Is that what to do when things grow shorter
And life is not a Kalpa for the Chillum within the crew

Chortle and Pantaloon stew in the evening by the Stevenage
And don’t forget the boat rides on the Thames for those remember men.

Somethings are not repeatable.

Mr 2 Write

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There are things you say I should not say
Like sorry to the hedges I cut on the way
When I sold my shares initially in sorrow
To buy my way out of footsie for tomorrow.

I’m the best, my nation said so
That’s the way that one’s got to go.
#AndWhenImDone there’s nothing left to do
Except folly and old fortune for the Armada Hampstead crew.

Battle me this and cohabitate me with the vacuum that:
Where is the honesty in the open handed approach to the road :-
The road east of Vancouver where the radio check is preapproved
Like a beer t-shirt ripped open for the cover of Summit recovered.

Too easy to shin and far over the older beard to shine
There is a head where the coupling will be diners.
It’s not all sandwiches at Waitrose when the beat is on the minute;
Leave me an iPod when you get the time to be on a zillion.

My Henry Kissinger and that’s the top hat blown
Like the Top Hotel we have not shown with all the shows on far from Noam.
Is there any cover left for the car he is bereft off having not shown foam
For the parties he carries a tune for. Mr Canary and the way back home.

From Siam I have flown and known the airport underneath my feet
Where the Jetstream is some cold cleaners and Mr Sheen for the Air Host’s feat
To jump so many moons to keep up with those Shrooms
And whatever did not Clear while Florida kept Ron Hubbard with Martin Clunes.

Underground with the dune buggies and up top where the hatch is blown
So much more the Saviour, so much more the way back home.
Something for me and something for you
A way to the routine in Jalandhar for the coded cabin crew.

Something for me and something for you
Take anything you like from the top shelf: I’m done with the quarterback Jew.

The Bonfire of the Logicians

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Vulnerable
Under the table
Over and out
The child gangs are about.
Bonfires of legislators
Sufis of sweet sounds
Vibrations
Improved damages
London has carriages
Sounds of the nation
The old Vikings
The new televisions
Visions & visionaries
Drugs cartels
Newsletters with spells
The police that chase people down
The daily bugle with more noise around town.
The grandfather that frowns
PMQs and furious speeches
As far as the worries reach.
All is one and too much
Nice touch
Kick ball and bollocks all
Connection : ->
Phalluses and erections
Architecture
Geopolitical protections
How can this be when both sides are heard
Only when the nation offers offices without the herd.

Sort it Out

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Sort it out, you gyppo
And get off my land
There are things in this place
That you don’t understand.

There is a fire where it belongs
For the furnace of understanding
And a legacy from the Land Registry
About how it deals with the King’s standing.

Those angels that support you
Also look over and watch me,
So keep your Backstreet Boys on reply
In case there is enough business here for three.

For it seems you think you’re God the Father
The way you’ve divvyed the land up so fair,
Then what about Mary and the water
For those baptisms over there!

Do you think they should take place on Saturday
When the farmers come to town?
Or is it repression of my sexual urges
In case I keep prices on Sunday trading down?

If that is so, then keep your pocket book
My trade is some private affair:
You won’t find me dealing with terrorists
As you make your internet self-aware.

Keep some of that tax aside for me after vaccinations
In case I want to play some upper-class chief
And save my children’s’ nation.
There are not too many places to go

The pubs have shut down and the clubs are quiet;
That’s just as well as I’ve ‘been there and done that’,

But in the middle we’ll meet and make it a Liberal affair
So the Labour can know Conservative
How do you like that for stealth and my social diet?
For these Culture Tsars walking around everywhere.

For Birmingham is to tomorrow what the Black Country was to the past
A case for royal caskets and cheese and a blast for legal cases at last.
Measure me this or measure me that, the time now set for oneness is here
And those cafes and restaurants need impressive food for me to have a beer.

I would like to add, sir, that I think the town
Needs less to centre it properly
But if you need to build some more and get down
Try not to do it on top of me!

And with that the perambulator crossed the road
Leaving Harborne on Saturday to mixed delights
Writing one more poem from his mental groans
Wishing the finality to some of those political fights.

Labour will be by, soon, and it is time for some facts
Reinvention of the wheel from those barbecues and some culture tax.