when you step on me
i go crunch
not even fit
for a thrush's lunch

i may be a pest
eat all your seedlings
but give it a rest
have some feelings

i'm here for a reason
though you can't figure
so whatever the season
don't commit treason

i know you're bigger
than me by far
i'm easy to disfigure
and i look bizarre

but have a ❤
spare me a day
don't tear me apart
as a child's play

don't think 'let's **** her'
'clean the area'
'there's a flotilla
of 'em on fritillaria!'

on a gentle buttercup
allow me to stay
or you might lift me up
and throw me away

over neighbour's fence
i don't much mind
the world's immense
i'm sure we can find

some space for us both
to live in harmony
me on new growth
and you with your tea

I am the monarch of my tea --
which I drink at ten-past-three --
Whose praise Great Britain loudly chants,
As they lose themselves in caffein'd trance,
As they lose themselves in caffein'd trance,
(Of Loose Leafed Tea that's sourced in Ceylon,)
And clap their batons,
in breeches and ribbons,
in a dance!

When the amber brew is spied,
My ***** swells with pride,
And I snap my fingers in the tea-house haunt,
In the estaminets and the restaurant,
In the estaminets and the restaurant,
(Of Loose Leafed Tea that's sourced in Ceylon,)
To get my quota,
of ice-tea soda,
as my want!

But when the brew is cold,
I generally arms mine fold,
And seek my rights with an English rant!
And demand my due of this G-d-blest plant
And demand my due of this G-d-blest plant
(Of Loose Leafed Tea that's sourced in Ceylon,)
of hot English tea,
with milk 'n honey,
to decant!

Alternative:

I am the monarch of my tea --
which I drink at ten-past-three --
Whose praise Great Britain loudly chants,
And so do its critics and its pundits and savants!
And so do its critics and its pundits and savants!
Its critics and its pundits,
especially its pundits,
and savants!

When the amber brew is spied,
My ***** swells with pride,
And I snap my fingers in the tea-house haunts,
And so do its critics and its pundits and savants!
And so do its critics and its pundits and savants!
Its critics and its pundits,
especially its pundits,
and savants!

But when the brew is cold,
I generally arms mine fold,
And seek my rights with an English rant!
And so do its critics and its pundits and savants!
And so do its critics and its pundits and savants!
Its critics and its pundits
[some of whom are bandits],
and savants!

tunnel o' darkness draws
me, its realms, compel,
nothingness bares its claws
drowns me in its hell

its tendril'd shadows beckon,
shout out with no voice,
without sword or weapon
says 'you have no choice'.

fog of fear bares its teeth
in rictus of cruel malignity
in wait for me to give last breathe
to relinquish all my dignity

but He Who formed the shadow
formed the light
in marsh-mud muck, mire, slough,
is respite

with word, 'Let there be light',
as day the night
precedes, with hope, to shine,
to separate

You Who cause existence,
hear this prayer,
You Who hide in distance
know You're there

Sweet Mercy, show Your light,
Grant grace, grant respite.
For the sake of Your Presence
Let Your Glory know Your Pleasance.

there is a breed, let's call them x,
that i often fail to understand,
for some strange reason i make them vex
whatever i do or had planned

it's as if they're different wired
from all others that i know
i can never do what's required
for me my love to show

why can't they be reasonable
is not a question i may ask
for reason is not teachable
to them an impossible task

there's no reason for the spurn
the yearn for control-stick
i think i will never learn
what truly makes them tick

early one morning
just as the sun was rising
i heard a voice a-calling
from the valley down below

it was my voice
my inner cry
as i face choice
to live or die

daren't venture
on adventure
dare not step
or show my pep

from every person
i quake and quiver
hide behind curtain
with lily-liver

Thus, song from Eden,
in long for freedom,
sings divine beau
in valley below

Oh, don't deceive me,
Oh, never leave me,
How could you use
A poor maiden so?

i look out in the clear crisp air
tinged with salmon glow
a dawning day left in care
of humankind below

woodpigeon visits the balcony
surveying hills' surround
soft contours of grass 'n stony
slopes of ****** ground

then, as one, arise discordant
blocks of grey concrete,
archipelago o' sordid, mordant
ash skeletons incomplete

silhouetted 'gainst gold 'n violet
contrapuntal heavy metal
harsh line of thematic islet
bars 'n blocks for man's settle

slowly skins 'n drapes develop
hewed from mountain's guts
ivoried sandy sheaths envelop
smothering man-made ruts

doors 'n windows, streets 'n cars,
smoke o' gas, light pollution,
blinding sight from sighing stars,
binding man from absolution

but as day breaks her vow of silence
children's voices drift in song,
song of infants, of reliance,
song of learning right from wrong

and with that song of angel's vapour,
with their tune and refrain,
choired cappella of babies' pure
laugh and cry paints grey terrain

in soft hues of rainbow colour
spreading warmth and healing
pink pastel to earth's pallor,
musical waves of feeling

with His baton, smiles Conductor,
hands upraised in swift tempo,
with His eyes, Master constructor,
signals world to 'onward go'.

a crack of sunshine
the human smile,
as matured wine
poured down the aisle
of suffering humanity
creating sanity
in world inanity
illusion and vanity
like the split of reed-sea
like biscuits and tea
it saves man 'n country
it'll save you and me

I bless you G-d for bluest sky
that lifts my soul up on high
allows me soar, my spirit to fly,
and though at left, the devil is nigh,
bidding me leave my Life and die
i lift my face, i lift my eye
to You O G-d, to You I cry,
Omniscient, Eternal I

i know now why in ancient scry
in ancient sight, in ancient pry,
they scribed Your Footstool as blue dye
lapis stone on which there lie
Hallowed Feet of He on high

and when the seer sought to spy
beyond the realms of opened sky
above the heads o' heaven-alumni
above firmament, iced marble dry,
declared with awful beauteous sigh
celestial visions o' royal sapphire

yet still upon my face fall I
for I believe and testify
though 'yond all, You reign on high
in truth, this world You occupy,
through darkness we do magnify
Your Name and Presence amplify

It started with some local pain,
but doctor said, 'don't complain',
the aches spread further up the vein
but doctor said, 'don't call in vain',
he thought he was going insane
as doctor said, 'it's you again!'
Now he lies in bed all weak,
once sprightly man can hardly speak,
they'd finally opened his physique
with knife investigated the mystique
they did not have too far to seek
the havoc cancer growth did wreak
was clear to see, the outlook bleak,
still now he turns the other cheek,
though inward sigh, no outward pique,
till his last, genteel and meek.

absinthe, o green fairy, you are my saviour,
i drink your greenest nectar and change behaviour,
my soul begins to rise
as open up my eyes
as gladden does my soul
as prisoner on parole
to savour the white light
that's sweeter than the night
the moon's glory.

absinthe, o green fairy, of sour wormwood,
elixir of the senses, eternal boyhood,
what secrets lie within
to cause my muse to spin
to clip the wings of sin
unfurl the good within
to cause the laughter bright
to spread its wings in flight,
i'll tell your story

absinthe, o green fairy, from Peter's Neverland,
your sun forever shining on golden desert sand,
my lips won't cease to smile
your natural powers beguile
as Lily of the Nile
as bride-dance down the aisle
as lightening empowers
flowers in April showers
a kneel before ye

i sink in quagmire,
my soul stinging,
mud in nostrils,
suffocating,

cannot breathe,
yet still placating,
begging reprieve,
for soul is aching

visions of men
flash before me,
shining faces
silent plea

i close my eyes
as devil blacker
throws arms around,
the spirit attacker

i long for the light,
for I know He
longs my return,
has yen for embrace,

and one day still
the holy spirit
Will draw me from depths
to bathe in His Grace.

lost in the darkness
blacker than black
tired of starkness
of torture-rack
of human hostility
man's brutality
constant attack
as millions lack

at times the vaulted glass is shut
the grey-white sky, depressing hut,
but down below, there's hidden glow,
within the heart of indigo

at time the heavens open wide
a groom to greet his new-wed bride
and soul escapes its black confine
to meld with nature and divine

and now i write, sick at heart,
the crow cries out as archer's dart,
the blackbird sings with scratchy needle
plays recording of synagogue beadle

the black will pass as day must night
push, declare, its right and might,
one day the sun will shine again
and soul will sing as lover's swain.

I am the very model of a modern poet laureate,
I've information rhythmical, poetical and lexical,
I know the poets of our land and quote their plays historical,
From Macbeth to Much Ado, in order categorical;

I'm very well acquainted, too, with rhythm hendecasyllable,
I understand assonance and refrain octosyllable,
About pentameter theory I'm teeming with a lot o' news,
With many cheerful facts about the style of poet Edward Hughes.

I'm very good at couplets and at blank verse very fabulous;
I know the seventy-one plays ascribed to Aeschylus:
In short, in matters rhymical, poetical, and lexical,
I am the very model of a modern poet laureate.

I know our poem-history, Caedmon's Hymn to Chaucer's works;
I can cite bards' acrostics with volatility in my vocal box,
I quote in elegiacs all the crimes of Heliogabalus,
In dialect ionic I can cite Semonides of Amorgos;

I can tell undoubted Aratus from Aristeus and Sophocles,
I know the croaking chorus from The Frogs of Aristophanes!
Then I can hum a fugue of which I've heard the music's din afore,
And whistle all the airs from that infernal nonsense Pinafore.

Then I can write a decasyllable as a dactyl or tetrameter,
And tell you ev'ry detail of soliloquies in Shakespeare:
In short, in matters rhythmical, poetical, to elloquate,
I am the very model of a modern poet laureate.

In fact, when I know what is meant by a "septet" and a "sestet",
When I can tell at sight a literary from a prose effect,
When such affairs as odic and idyllic I'm more wary at,
And when I know precisely 'to be or not to be' by Dane "Hamlet".

When I have learnt what progress has been made in modern rhymery,
When I know more iambic than a novice in a nunnery
In short, when I'm audacious, vexatious and dilatory
You'll say a poet laureate has ne'er been so conciliatory.

For my alliteration knowledge, though I'm plucky and adventury,
Has only been brought down to the beginning of the century;
But still, in matters rhythmical, poetical and etiquette,
I am the very model of a modern poet laureate.

i saw you, sweet angel,
black locks round your face,
your memory was painful,
but now there's all grace

sweet one, first son,
your light filled the room,
as the midday sun,
as flowers that bloom,
your eyes were pools
as emerald jewels,
your skin as zephyr
of wafts of sweet myrrh

your love filled my *****
i thought it would crack
when they told me your blossom
had been taken back
when they told me when
we were absent from you
they'd reached out from heaven
from celestial blue
they'd plucked you sweet rose
innocent dove
to rest and repose
in Gardens above
to know only sweetness
to know only Love
and though your completeness
we can never have,
your soul once again
in Spirit resides,
that calms my yen
as ocean tides.

and though i know not
the why or the wherefore
of why we begot
and why you are no more
inside my heart
as sea 'gainst the seashore
is never apart
from that son i adore.

row, row, row the boat
gently down the stream,
let your subconscious mind
lead you in a dream,

down a stream of consciousness,
down a moonlight beam,
loose yourself in your thoughts,
life is not as it seems.

when you catch your purpose,
when you catch your theme,
row, row, row your boat
swiftly up the stream,

use the stream of consciousness
to swing on moonlight beam,
use your strength of purpose
to fight for your dream.

row, row, row your boat
gently up the stream,
verily, verily, verily, verily,
life is not a dream,