The lady With The Smiley Face

The little one struggled and then stood up,
his cot was soiled with his own waste,
he just didn’t know this time this place,
how could he was just a baby.

He remembered a man once with brush and easel,
another life perhaps, he didn’t understand, why would he?
He was just a baby a little one shaking his cot,
but he does remember a kind lady with a smiley face.

It was dark in this place it’s not nice here he thought,
and where was the lady with the smiley face,
that other lady she hasn’t got a smiley face,
I wish that she would pick me up;

I really don’t like it here and I am very hungry, I don’t think this lady likes me,
I do try to be a good boy and play with Teddy,
but my Teddy’s not hungry like me.

I don’t like it when she shakes me about,
and then when I cry she screams and she shouts,
I wish I could see that lady with the smiley face,
but that was another time in another place.

I don’t like this dark place I think I’ll sleep, I don’t feel so hungry when I sleep,
Teddy says it would be better not to wake,
and then maybe I will see that lady with the smiley face,
I know that she will pick me up when I cry!

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The Jealous Rituals of the Needy

They come with their introspective smiles, with their eyes a flicker in the shyest of pose,
“oh” you say to yourself “their ok, I suppose,”
but something inside says this doesn’t ring true,
But my dear friends I do say this to you,
go with first instinct for thats the best you can do, because they are the needy,
the ones who really need you…

Remember my darlings we all stand alone,
and all you’ll hear from a needy is why didn’t you phone,
so if you’re caught by a needy,
you’ll wish you’d stayed home…
The needy are jealous and witlessly moan,
so don’t tell them your secrets, they’ll use them for gain,
and when you’re not looking be the cause of your pain…

They will pretend sensitivity, when the cause is their own, and their mantra is self-pity,
when they end up alone,
so if you are a needy get a life,
stop living on the entrails of others,
get a dog, a cat, a husband or a wife anything, just stop fucking moaning…!

Something At My Window

A tap-tap-ratter tap-tap, oh dear shiver me timbers,
there’s something banging on my windows, and the fact that I am ten stories high
makes me wonder who’s passing by.
I can’t say that I am not a little worried
and afraid, afraid to raise my head above the pillow,
I am so scared to see what I might see
a-waiting in the darkness for me.

I’ve seen those films with scary scenes,
but that really isn’t my reality and a werewolf being up so high
is something that I do not buy.
It can’t be a window cleaner up at night
in a bosun`s chair in full flight,
it can’t be a maiden with long blonde hair
or a fickle bird with time to spare.

It makes me wonder if I should open my eyes,
and see what’s a tapping just outside
you never know it could a big surprise
it could be an attempted suicide.
Or someone with a negative pursuit,
who may have thrown themselves off the roof;
indeed it could be someone on my ledge,
who really should be tucked up in bed.

Should I save this perfect stranger,
from his or her element of danger?
Or maybe I should let them fall,
for that’s what they wanted after all.
With eyes still closed in trepidation, and tired of all this fearful speculation,
I am going be brave and look outside, and see what it is that makes me hide.

And so out of bed I brave the scene,
oh my little chickadee, it’s just the branches of a tree,
a-blowing in its reverie.
There might be a moral here my friends,
if you have one please do send, please send me something meaningful
and perhaps I won’t feel such a fool…

A Short Cut To Oblivion

Was it some perverted spaceman?
Who did sow the seed of our discontent?
Some Uncle Jesse from the stars
giving Mrs Ape a little taste of Mars.

Maybe the source of our inherent tension,
Is just the result of some aerial intervention?
Perhaps we are result of some bestial union,
made vent by some cowboy from the stars.

So we are the result of a self-centred act,
of a spaceman who couldn’t keep it in his pants,
And so all you folks that are homophobic,
just you remember, If our spaceman was a gay?

We could have evolved in a natural way,
we could still be eating the big banana,
or maybe we would have become shit heads anyway,
I blame god myself, I’m sure he could have intervened…

A PAINFUL GROSS ENDEAVOUR

When Jesus was a young man,
did he peep between the cracks?
Did he feel and do what was natural,
to a youngster under wraps?

Why do I pose this question?
About our lord and saviour,
it’s because of all that self-centred piety,
that preaches good behaviour.

I can’t recite a commandment,
where self-abuse does feature;
well maybe there was an eleventh,
where sweet release does greet you!

I bet throughout the ages of man,
the saints through trial and error,
did flagellate their wickedness,
with a painful gross endeavour!

But real life isn’t a nativity,
it’s a bile of self- centred bigotry,
and the nature of guilt is confusing
that why it seems so amusing!

Who Is The Real Thief ?

Beyond the mask I saw the real you,
it would seem for a second in time,
your pretended halo had slipped away,
as the face beyond the mask revealed its head of clay.

The grizzled face of Empire,key holders of a repressive past
holding on by its fingertips to its blood rich past,
it was the pimp caressing the prostitute,
after taking her hard earned cash.

“But he is kind to his servants some do say,
then why did that servant steal from him that way?”
He was heard to say that “you can’t get good staff nowadays”,
after all he gave her that position in his new mission.

He said that making fires and stacking logs was god’s work,
the pimp lives and breathes and is ever present,
as he bathes in the soiled waters of so called respectability;
a master of disguise hiding a diseased soul behind pomp and pageant.

Where is the sceptred isle set in a silver sea now?
Hopefully it is in the heart of the common man,
where the true face of England lye’s buried,
under the ever increasing sludge of mediocrities trace!

Night Time Sky/Meritocracy My Arse

I would love to fly in a night time sky
but like a human not a fly
I wouldn’t do what some birds do
I wouldn’t poo on passers by
because that would be quite rude.

But on second thoughts I might just choose
to shit a brick on those pretenders,
those greedy bastard money lenders
and governments that let them take
a pound of flesh from those who ache.

Now you may sense my discontent
to those who pose in government
and there`s that royal pool that pay no rent
those takers who give out prizes to keep the status quo.

Oh yes! I would love to fly in night time sky.
much higher than a butterfly
where I could forget about what those cringes do
when they make decisions without asking you.

Will they ask you to the wedding Mr Blair?
You never know their might not be a wedding so fair
They may well use a tad of restraint in these austere times
and build a homeless shelter instead,Helter-skelter!

What’s that Charlie Manson you agree?
but you’re not invited, and neither are we
but if I say too much I could get a visit
on behalf of those tainted sons and bitches.

What you don’t believe that men in suits
would pay a visit and use the boot
what’s that! You don’t believe that MI5
will decide whether you live or die, If you say too much.

Well! All I can say to you my friends
Just go and ask John Bindon
Oh dear shiver me timbers
dear John is no longer with us.

What’s the real story?
Maggie and John in heaven together
Showing his part whatever the weather
Now that’s freedom of choice…

Meritocracy my arse !
Or perhaps you`ll blame the jews!

I Started To Think About The Other Mans Plight

Wont you spare a thought for the other mans plight
wont you spare a thought for the soldier man
on his dying day,and spare a thought for the young child
who has no arms to play,my heart goes out to any man
who walks a lonley night for its hard to help self pity
when no one heeds your plight,so spare a thought
for the lost souls on this very day …………..

Those Old Etonians Are Back In Town

Those olde Etonians are back in town
they use hackneyed terms like “grass roots level”
“big society, let all muck in!”
but they are not in tune with mothers peril
when school uniforms are worn thrice over
food is bought by monies bent
and bills are paid with monies lent
from unscrupulous low life city degenerates
who pay for top class accounting men.
“So get on your bike lads and lets all muck in !”

Those olde Etonians are back in town
the Mayfair Set that Bullingdon fraternity
they talk about those “dole-full scroungers”
as they conserve their own bloody bundles
by bending the law just off-shore.
While Sally tells a little white
just to feed and clothe her little tykes.
“So who is the villan here?” one might ask
Is it she who ducks and dives for an extra shilling
or those who claim and pose to be the savers of liberty.

I do not wish to sell you the socialist dream
but we must look after those who are off the pace,
so lets not encourage mediocrities trace
and let us encourage a loving individuality
and forever kill this gross banality.
Its difficult when the privileged few rule
the so called ordinary
with a quintessential traditional view
as they retard our growth with a short term stew.
Its hard i know being raised to look up
to such pedestrian pawns
who think that they are above us all.

I dont wish to appear anarchistic
cos my friends thats not my biscuit,
so no, a radical systematic biscuit crumble
is not the way to rumble,
evolution is the key but that will happen naturally.
So my friends in a world where nothing seems for free
lets rid ourselves of this vile celebrity
and the royal pool who give out prizes
to keep a republic at bay,
i say put them in the stock at the next Assize.

J.J.T.D Father and son Productions.. www.colonelradioshow.co.uk

Death Train

So you say i`ve seen no horror
with my own blue green eyes,
and i suppose if you say it that way
it keeps you satisfied!
No, I have not been to Afghanistan
to stem the commi muslim tide.
No Sir the Gulf wars one and two
were not my theater either.

The fighter and the theif did chat on Primrose hill
neither one knowing that the other one was ill.
While on the far horizon St Pauls cried 1000 stories true.
I was not at the Mai Lai massacre
where the yellow peril got stuffed and drowned
no i cant say i was present at that death scene,
no I was not at that place to hear
the women and children scream.

Hiroshima and Nagasaki tombs and tears of tradegy
but not seeing it first hand does not mean i dont feel the insanity.
Roll over Beethoven its just a death camp buns in the oven,
but i was not present at the battle of the Little Big Horn,
where General Custer and his soldier boys
were dead before the dawn, just dead, thats all!
I did not witness first hand the Soux massacred at wounded knee
but that does not stop me thinking that it could be you or me!

Remember that time and place is everything
and we all have a right to liberty,
and understanding the pain of others
is a gift that can set us free.
So “STOP, LOOK AND LISTEN!”
ask your self who really is to blame?
And dont look at me!
(Im nobody)

I didnt hear the London tube go bang
but i saw it on tv,
but i did see the Number 30 bus shattered on the ground,
and then i had a surreal experience while sitting in a car
i heard it on the radio as a twin tower came down,
then i saw the second tower fall with my own eyes, twas on the news you see.
All this, as Allah and his virgins decided to leave town,
so did i feel the pain of others on that fateful day?
Perhaps a little more than Jesus or Muhammad
who it seems looked the other way.

Such images we have to process
and you think were mad like John
if we dont want to play that game,
talking gobbleledigook of the mind
like in Ogdens Nutgon Flake oh poor
old Stanley Unwin,                                                                                                                                                   he made it seem so right to me
what with the life and death of Peter Sellers and all thats inbetween.

I was not there when Katrina hit New Orleans
and I wasn’t there when the floods destroyed the Pakistani scene,
no I can’t say I saw first hand the battered earth in the Haitian sun.
I was never there at Auschwitz, I didn’t see what the Nazis had done,
can’t say I was at Stalingrad or had to survive a gulag,
and  it’s so hard to understand my place in these catastrophes
as rats do gnaw at skin and bone it’s hard to believe there’s no place like home.

I was not there when the Luftwaffe flattened East London
no I didn’t see that scene of broken dreams.
No i didnt have to be there to feel the history
And those feelings that you get as you witness real humanity
I was not there when the wall came down but I saw it on TV,
lots of happy people dancing because they thought that they were free,
But maybe I’m a cynic and the joke is really on me.

I have never been on a transatlantic slave ship dehumanized at sea
i can’t claim to have been drowned to lighten the heavy load,
Its  just another holocaust you might say no angels on that road
Just a heavy load at sea sad Africans chained and slaved.
I was not there either as the massacre at No Gun Ri
Korean war-Vietnam War-Pol Pots killing spree
and now we have Mugabe and white farmers are the feed.

We’ve had the Irish potato famine and the Christians killing Jews,
I was not there as The Crusades rolled on and Muslims were fodder ,
I was not in Tel Aviv when the suicide bombers struck
I was not in the Blind Beggar pub when Cornell didn’t duck,
nor was I present at Evering Road when Reg took Mcvitie down.
I was not at the Poll tax riots as Maggie lost her crown,
She got it wrong as they all do in the end,yes it was people power true.

I’ve never been a sex slave or been abused by Catholic priest
but I wrote a poem once about abuse and accusation,
but a woman who I didn’t know said I was talking above my station,
I said that you didn’t have to have been there to understand the pain,
But she wouldn’t listen, she knew best, she believed in liberalization
I don’t know where she was coming from she didn’t know me either
In fact if I remember right she called me a non-believer.

I wasn’t at Pearl Harbor or at the Battle of Bannockburn,
I was not at the D-day landings or Dresden’s Waterloo,
I was not at the bombing at Guernica,
Nor have I killed a Muslim or Jew,
I know about the bombing in Harrods because I saw it on TV.
Will we ever get used to these atrocities?
I really hope not! So let us have a nice cup of tea…

I’ve never seen what some have seen
with my own green blue eyes
But that does not mean I don’t feel its weight deep within my soul
These images I cannot shake with all uncertain feeling
And as the death train it passes by
I hear myself whisper deep within
I’m glad that it’s not me.

J.J.T.D Father and son Productions.. www.colonelradioshow.co.uk