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Rich Hues Jan 2019
Like her sister
Has a slender, glass waist,
  But she is not as green,
And lacks
Both have
Fragile wings
And whisper things
You didn't want
To know,
One with
A hint of mint,
The other's breath
As cold as snow.
Rich Hues Jan 2019
The BBC have a new weather girl,
Her hair is blond and her necklace... pearl,
She warns bearded fishermen about rough seas,
While I stand here with my boxers,
Around my knees.
Rich Hues Dec 2018
Some are friendly and like to be kissed,
Some are lonely with cuts on  their wrist,
But some have found,
When a man is around,
That it's surprisingly easy to walk into a fist.
  Nov 2018 Rich Hues
A journo aware, equally at home in Palaces, Halls or the streets
Trained to vision duplicity slants and angles and know the crux
Able to see the story behind the story behind the story and more
In ethics robed proudly while mendacity and shenanigans cry shy
Show me the Dai Lama in a crack den or Bill Gates ******* in Goa

Semi demi illiterates with joined-up thinking or unthinking
Immatures lacking emotional intelligence or gainful statures
In groupthink mired settles on group delusions in vicissitudes
We're programming or flooding seeds of doubts or confusing
As if maladroit fantasies are gospels not simpletons' chicanery

Dismissives sad dolts duly outflanked and outclassed inherently
Ignoramuses crude and coarse in true form lacking introspection
Wear disgrace proudly in persistence and parade idiocy fittingly
Strength in numbers neither nullifying stupidity or indignities
Indulgent cowards and sick gate-keeps of unearned entitlements

Nonentities, rabble rousers shamed vigilantes in emotional dearth
Claiming and luxuriating in the depravities of their deficiencies
I remain what I am and no apologies necessary for august status
Your diminutive deeds merely reflects your statures and intellects
Little minds already condemn you to suicides of real aspirations

Rich Hues Jun 2018
Life is a mother-in-law... pleasant at first,
But then in creeps doubt,
You feel you'll be found out,
And then you feel bad,
And wonder who'll be more mad,
Your wife...  or her dad?

— The End —