Trouble can take a stable man,
And make him go quite mad.
Uncertain just why she visited,
Make him wish she never had.

But there is no stopping Trouble.
She waits around every bend.
But once you do get used to her,
You may just call her "friend."

And yes, she may bring chaos,
As Trouble's been known to do,
But there's no avoiding it once,
Trouble's taken a liking to you.

And there is no need to worry,
Please do not worry at all.
Trouble needs your number,
To make an international call.

Out of the dream I hear it

the distant thunder.

I hear the cry of children;

love will hold back darkness,

love will hold back death.

The sky is violet, red

clouds have bled this day;

smoke rises from the ashes,

guns are put away.

In the distant thunder

I hear an infant cry;

love holds it safe at harbor,

love rocks it in the sway.

The dreamer goes on dreaming;

waiting for the new world

where madness done and hate...

Now, the sky is golden,

something new appears above.

The thunder rolls asunder

no one wanders to the grave.

Forever dreaming until the Lathe

says, Go! Accept the truth that

nothing endures, nothing is precise

one with rock and still alive...

dreamers we now know the world

is paradox and fate...

It's unfortunate that Parisians
Are very hard to bear,
In terms of flash obsequiousity,
They drive me to despair!
And patience is an attribute
I don't profess to have
To mercifully administer
When accents veer to Slav.

Baltics look like jellyfish,
The Germans are obscene
And loud and overbearing
But the Swiss are very clean.
Italians are a swarthy lot
Who gourmandize on food
And sacrifice their suavity
By being impudently crude.
The Spanish are no better,
In fact they are probably worse,
For obsessing in the blood sports
I actually rate them in reverse.

Starchiness is British
They're convoluted to the core,
The Old Boy system's lost it's sheen
Aspirants flock to it no more.
The Yanks are looking slightly crass
Whilst fighting foreign wars,
Their pinky held up squeaky clean
To call "foul" to China's flaws.
China sits inscrutably
Holding all the cards
Waiting for the moment
To strike beneath the guards.

India and Pakistan
Are squabbling like kids
The uproar over Kashmir
Rates them lower than the Yids.
The Yids are walking tightropes
With Iran's nuclear ******,
Whilst currying Yank approval,
Eventual bombing is a must.
The Dutch behave so anally
They're always proven right
When faced with rigid negatives
They blanch with haunches tight.

But not the Argentineans
They love to dance and flirt,
To chase the senorita
Cavorting in the scarlet skirt.
The South Pacific's wallowing
They're adrift from World affairs
Oz's self preoccupation
Mirrors Kiwi's vacant stares.
Africa's way past comment
Lost to heat and dust,
Warfare, **** and pillage
And the rest decayed by rust.

Eskimos are OK
Clean living on the ice
The population static,
Zer-O pollution's nice!

Marshalg
@theGate
Mangere Bridge
14 April 2009