Here's life for you and me,
In a Western Liberal Democracy,
We voted for politicians, in reality,
So we got politicians, quite literally,
We don't believe a word they say,
With media hype and fear campaigns,
Yes, sad, but true, for you and me,
We live in a Western Liberal Democracy,
Does such exist in reality?
We voted for politicians, Tweedledee,
or Tweedledummers, pollies for democracy!
Sarcasm, you really need me!

I guess weird is wonderful, eh,
Let's place the fair in welfare today,
Yeah, right, a quest for all our pollies,
Myriad challenges for equity,
True, misery loves comedy,
Someone writes their political scripts,
Listening to Parliament gives me the blip,
Best to off turn the switch,
Pray for a Lazarus economy,
Yes, misery loves comedy.....
But, really not that funny!

I want to missile my motion into a tunnel of a gun, drag my head in circles so slow, and tell you to kiss the words right out of me. Sometimes, I react in a push; pushing myself up to my throat with a knife spaced evenly out in narrow-tasted heads of candy licked sticks and dives of veins into cut stripped skin.
Faced in pattern, as if, somehow this tight burn of loose liquid could easily slide its warm acid down my throat and into my guts; swinging on my organs like it has no deal or it has no conscious to release me from stumblin

Here, there is a surfeit of Spam,
Fed to us by government man,
Democracy's harrowing tale,
Setting us up to fail,
Pollies' synchronised team,
Is all this what it seems?
Total cant and hypocrisy,
A merit myth of futility,
Spam surfeit, no caring beyond duty.......

AND if you go -- love goes away?  No, it's understood.
My love stays as freedom is a breakfast food
as if love can live with right or wrong (undestood)
or rolly-pollies are from frightful mountains made---
long enough just for you and me.

As though pain can pay the rent
regardless of genius please the talentgang comes
to collect the fallen minds and hearts upon
the sidewalks of understanding.  Everywhere.

So as it is;  my whole life:  as my coalwood eyes
burn wint-air oh waiting (my love) for spring ?(y)(w)ou(w)
un-air-stan?me
crazy
me like

evry-ting
we can do it for just Me and You.  So bring it (with love)
for a landing -- without misunderstanding -- as there is no
end what we can do together without end.

see shebert lips of babies and their beating exploding Love-hearts
: with a little luck we can help it out.

:: 10.24.2021 ::

In Oz, we don't like political jokes,
Here, they all get elected, folks,
Pollies sell their souls for money,
Their salaries aren't even funny,
Then they get super to retire,
Better candidates we should hire,
Different from our oldies and veterans,
They're on measly financial plans,
Yes, that's why we don't like political jokes,
Here,  they all get elected, folks.

when i was a child
i drew an outline
of my future
with broken chalk
across the side
of a road that
no longer exists

you see
when the eyes
persist
they reimagine
the past as some
kind of bad joke,
or a science
experiment

when i was a child
i was forced to make
love to people
who didn't deserve
it;

i guess asking
for permission
didn't exist back
then

or were we all too
scrambled in our brains
to get our bodies
to do what we say?

instead they just gave
into their instincts
and impulses

our tiny naked bodies
under ***** blankets;
tightened fists, kicking legs
and strained muscles

the trees outside
still swayed as though
they never had mouths
to feed, as though
they weren't desperate
to think, feel, or be
free

it all came so naturally...

when i was a child
i broke twigs in two,
kicked empty beer
cans, and poked
rollie pollies
in their bellies
until they got
sick and threw up

i laughed, cried
and wished that
i could die

i did this well
into my late
twenties

until i realized
i was going to live
for a long time

then i said **** it,
**** the world,
**** the creator
he, or she
doesn't exist

they were never
there to stop
my father
from his routine
abandonment

they were never
there to stop
my mother
from withholding
nourishment

sometimes
there aren't enough
words and wishes
to conceal the truth
from it's own existence

it has to live
in order for
me to die

perhaps, it's been a joke
all this time and i've
been to stuck up
to spare a laugh
or two

i smile more
than i often believe
i should

but at least
i know my body
is strong enough
to rebel against my fate

when my mind is
too afraid to make
the change

All of our politicians are a blight on our society
These self important people do possess a lack luster glow
Governing for themselves is their number one priority
Telling porkies is the way that their rhetoric doth flow

It is our misfortune to have so many of them in our halls of power
We're paying them a fortune for mismanaging government biz
Not a one of these pollies are worth a left or right bower
They should be thrown out of our parliaments and into a tizz

We're heartily sick of the whole lot of them
As they do so leave us with a feeling of contempt
Not to forget our coughs indigestion or phlegm
We so wish they were from our taxes exempt

If only we could do without this undesirable lot
Our countries would most assuredly be less on the ill side
They have a reputation as bad as a staining ink spot
And we'd be only too happy to toss them all well aside

Moaning and whinging will not relieve the constant bane
We've got to take things into our own hands
We cannot endure anymore of their burdensome strain
Government benches would be better off being rid of these bands

Acquiring a repellent to spray on them is one of my notions
Then we can relax knowing that they'll no more blight us
These thoughts are just me musing on a few suggestions
I'll leave you all to ruminate on this poetic piece thus

This government’s greed’s cut into my need
By taxing tobacco smoke,
I needed my **** to concentrate,
They’ve turned it into a joke.
So how many lines of poetry
I’ll never be able to write,
All for the sake of the Nanny State
Insisting I quit tonight.

I see it as persecution of
The few of us that are left,
Turning us into a cash cow that
Has left us feeling bereft.
I thought that the days of fascists died
In the bunker with ******’s crew,
We seem to have re-elected them,
They’re telling us what to do.

We should be allowed to live our lives
The way that we always did,
Making our personal choices then
And not be ruled by the quid.
They keep on edging their taxes up
To make us submit by stealth,
By making it unaffordable,
They say it’s all about health.

What will they do when we all give up
And they find all their coffers bare?
What will they find to tax us then
To make up the smoker’s share?
Maybe they’ll tax the pollies perks
That they vote themselves at night,
Whenever the world’s not watching them,
But that never happens - Right?

We seem to be ruled by a den of thieves
Who make up rules as they go,
Their arrogance you would not believe
As they crush the ordinary Joe.
It’s time that we formed a voting block
To target the safest seats,
And toss out the whole corrupted lot
By dumping them out in the streets.

David Lewis Paget

I think a fibre is still there
Out on the cliff
Rolly polly waves crashing
Sea wind wet
So high I never climbed back into my body

Even then it was a horrible feeling


It’s no secret I’m a struggle
A quick wind could put me out
That’s how I’m sputtering
All out of spark


I think you thought I was tough
Hard as nails
And I did try to be
But what I really am is scared

Really I want someone
God, probably
A voice still and small
Or a tempest howl
To say, you’re okay, kid
You’ll make it