On the first day of Christmas
Old Rupert gave to me
Papers full of right wing *******
On the second day of Christmas old Rupert gave to me no more free to air Simpsons and papers full of right wing *******
On the third day of Christmas old Rupert gave to me ****** tabloid journalism, no more free to air Simpsons and papers full of right wing *******
On the fourth day of Christmas old Rupert gave to me high price for comedy channels, ****** tabloid journalism, no more free to air Simpsons and papers full of right wing *******
On the fifth day of Christmas old Rupert gave to me pay rises for Wall Street, high price for comedy channels, ****** tabloid journalism, no more free to air Simpsons and papers full of right wing *******
On the sixth day of Christmas old Rupert gave to me copyright enfringements, pay rises for Wall Street, high price for comedy channels , ****** tabloid journalism, no more free to air Simpsons and papers full of right wing *******
On the seventh day of Christmas old Rupert gave to me FOX FOX FOX, copy right enfringements, pay rises for Wall Street, high price for comedy channels, ****** tabloid journalism, no more free to air Simpsons and papers full of right wing *******
On the eighth day of Christmas
Old Rupert gave to me world news in the eyes of the rich, FOX FOX FOX, copyright enfringements, pay rises for Wall Street, high price for comedy channels, ****** tabloid journalism, no more free to air Simpsons and papers full of right wing *******
On the ninth day of Christmas old Rupert gave to me expensive live sports events, world news in the eyes of the rich, FOX FOX FOX, copyright enfringements, pay rises for Wall Street, high price for comedy channels, ****** tabloid journalism, no more free to air Simpsons and papers full of right wing *******
On the tenth day of Christmas old Rupert gave to me problems with channel 10, expensive live sports events, world news in the eyes of the rich, FOX FOX FOX,copyright enfringements, pay rises for Wall Street, high price for comedy channels, ****** tabloid journalism, no more free to air Simpsons and papers full of right wing *******
On the eleventh day of Christmas old Rupert gave to me lots of canned laughter, problems with channel 10, expensive live sports events, world news in the eyes of the rich, FOX FOX FOX, copyright enfringements, pay rises for Wall Street, high prices for comedy channels,****** tabloid journalism, no more free to air systems and papers full of right wing *******
On the twelfth day of Christmas
Old Rupert gave to me trying to put a cost on YouTube, lots of canned laughter, problems with channel 10, expensive live sports events, world news in the eyes of the rich, FOX FOX FOX, copyright enfringements, pay rises for Wall Street, high prices for comedy channels, ****** tabloid journalism, no more free to air Simpsons and papers full of right wing *******
And that is the pain we suffer under Rupert

Tiare Tahiti

MAMUA, when our laughter ends,
And hearts and bodies, brown as white,
Are dust about the doors of friends,
Or scent ablowing down the night,
Then, oh! then, the wise agree,
Comes our immortality.
Mamua, there waits a land
Hard for us to understand.
Out of time, beyond the sun,
All are one in Paradise,
You and Pupure are one,
And Tau, and the ungainly wise.
There the Eternals are, and there
The Good, the Lovely, and the True,
And Types, whose earthly copies were
The foolish broken things we knew;
There is the Face, whose ghosts we are;
The real, the never-setting Star;
And the Flower, of which we love
Faint and fading shadows here;
Never a tear, but only Grief;
Dance, but not the limbs that move;
Songs in Song shall disappear;
Instead of lovers, Love shall be;
For hearts, Immutability;
And there, on the Ideal Reef,
Thunders the Everlasting Sea!
And my laughter, and my pain,
Shall home to the Eternal Brain.
And all lovely things, they say,
Meet in Loveliness again;
Miri's laugh, Teipo's feet,
And the hands of Matua,
Stars and sunlight there shall meet,
Coral's hues and rainbows there,
And Teura's braided hair;
And with the starred 'tiare's' white,
And white birds in the dark ravine,
And 'flamboyants' ablaze at night,
And jewels, and evening's after-green,
And dawns of pearl and gold and red,
Mamua, your lovelier head!
And there'll no more be one who dreams
Under the ferns, of crumbling stuff,
Eyes of illusion, mouth that seems,
All time-entangled human love.
And you'll no longer swing and sway
Divinely down the scented shade,
Where feet to Ambulation fade,
And moons are lost in endless Day.
How shall we wind these wreaths of ours,
Where there are neither heads nor flowers?
Oh, Heaven's Heaven! -- - but we'll be missing
The palms, and sunlight, and the south;
And there's an end, I think, of kissing,
When our mouths are one with Mouth. . . .
'Tau here', Mamua,
Crown the hair, and come away!
Hear the calling of the moon,
And the whispering scents that stray
About the idle warm lagoon.
Hasten, hand in human hand,
Down the dark, the flowered way,
Along the whiteness of the sand,
And in the water's soft caress,
Wash the mind of foolishness,
Mamua, until the day.
Spend the glittering moonlight there
Pursuing down the soundless deep
Limbs that gleam and shadowy hair,
Or floating lazy, half-asleep.
Dive and double and follow after,
Snare in flowers, and kiss, and call,
With lips that fade, and human laughter
And faces individual,
Well this side of Paradise! . . .
There's little comfort in the wise.

Rupert Brooke, Papeete, February 1914


. The Great Lover

I HAVE been so great a lover: filled my days
So proudly with the splendour of Love's praise,
The pain, the calm, and the astonishment,
Desire illimitable, and still content,
And all dear names men use, to cheat despair,
For the perplexed and viewless streams that bear
Our hearts at random down the dark of life.
Now, ere the unthinking silence on that strife
Steals down, I would cheat drowsy Death so far,
My night shall be remembered for a star
That outshone all the suns of all men's days.
Shall I not crown them with immortal praise
Whom I have loved, who have given me, dared with me
High secrets, and in darkness knelt to see
The inenarrable godhead of delight?
Love is a flame; -- - we have beaconed the world's night.
A city: -- - and we have built it, these and I.
An emperor: -- - we have taught the world to die.
So, for their sakes I loved, ere I go hence,
And the high cause of Love's magnificence,
And to keep loyalties young, I'll write those names
Golden for ever, eagles, crying flames,
And set them as a banner, that men may know,
To dare the generations, burn, and blow
Out on the wind of Time, shining and streaming. . . .
These I have loved:
                            White plates and cups, clean-gleaming,
Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, færy dust;
Wet roofs, beneath the lamp-light; the strong crust
Of friendly bread; and many-tasting food;
Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of wood;
And radiant raindrops couching in cool flowers;
And flowers themselves, that sway through sunny hours,
Dreaming of moths that drink them under the moon;
Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon
Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss
Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is
Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen
Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;
The benison of hot water; furs to touch;
The good smell of old clothes; and other such -- -
The comfortable smell of friendly fingers,
Hair's fragrance, and the musty reek that lingers
About dead leaves and last year's ferns. . . .
                            Dear names,
And thousand other throng to me! Royal flames;
Sweet water's dimpling laugh from tap or spring;
Holes in the ground; and voices that do sing;
Voices in laughter, too; and body's pain,
Soon turned to peace; and the deep-panting train;
Firm sands; the little dulling edge of foam
That browns and dwindles as the wave goes home;
And washen stones, gay for an hour; the cold
Graveness of iron; moist black earthen mould;
Sleep; and high places; footprints in the dew;
And oaks; and brown horse-chestnuts, glossy-new;
And new-peeled sticks; and shining pools on grass; -- -
All these have been my loves. And these shall pass,
Whatever passes not, in the great hour,
Nor all my passion, all my prayers, have power
To hold them with me through the gate of Death.
They'll play deserter, turn with the traitor breath,
Break the high bond we made, and sell Love's trust
And sacramented covenant to the dust.
---- Oh, never a doubt but, somewhere, I shall wake,
And give what's left of love again, and make
New friends, now strangers. . . .
                            But the best I've known,
Stays here, and changes, breaks, grows old, is blown
About the winds of the world, and fades from brains
Of living men, and dies.
                            Nothing remains.
O dear my loves, O faithless, once again
This one last gift I give: that after men
Shall know, and later lovers, far-removed,
Praise you, "All these were lovely"; say, "He loved."

Rupert Brooke, Mataiea, 1914


. Heaven

FISH (fly-replete, in depth of June,
Dawdling away their wat'ry noon)
Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear,
Each secret fishy hope or fear.
Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond;
But is there anything Beyond?
This life cannot be All, they swear,
For how unpleasant, if it were!
One may not doubt that, somehow, Good
Shall come of Water and of Mud;
And, sure, the reverent eye must see
A Purpose in Liquidity.
We darkly know, by Faith we cry,
The future is not Wholly Dry.
Mud unto mud! -- - Death eddies near -- -
Not here the appointed End, not here!
But somewhere, beyond Space and Time.
Is wetter water, slimier slime!
And there (they trust) there swimmeth One
Who swam ere rivers were begun,
Immense, of fishy form and mind,
Squamous, omnipotent, and kind;
And under that Almighty Fin,
The littlest fish may enter in.
Oh! never fly conceals a hook,
Fish say, in the Eternal Brook,
But more than mundane weeds are there,
And mud, celestially fair;
Fat caterpillars drift around,
And Paradisal grubs are found;
Unfading moths, immortal flies,
And the worm that never dies.
And in that Heaven of all their wish,
There shall be no more land, say fish.


. There's Wisdom in Women

"OH LOVE is fair, and love is rare;" my dear one she said,
"But love goes lightly over." I bowed her foolish head,
And kissed her hair and laughed at her. Such a child was she;
So new to love, so true to love, and she spoke so bitterly.
But there's wisdom in women, of more than they have known,
And thoughts go blowing through them, are wiser than their own,
Or how should my dear one, being ignorant and young,
Have cried on love so bitterly, with so true a tongue?


. A Memory (From a sonnet-sequence)

SOMEWHILE before the dawn I rose, and stept
Softly along the dim way to your room,
And found you sleeping in the quiet gloom,
And holiness about you as you slept.
I knelt there; till your waking fingers crept
About my head, and held it. I had rest
Unhoped this side of Heaven, beneath your breast.
I knelt a long time, still; nor even wept.
It was great wrong you did me; and for gain
Of that poor moment's kindliness, and ease,
And sleepy mother-comfort!
                            Child, you know
How easily love leaps out to dreams like these,
Who has seen them true. And love that's wakened so
Takes all too long to lay asleep again.

Rupert Brooke, Waikiki, October 1913


. One Day

TODAY I have been happy. All the day
I held the memory of you, and wove
Its laughter with the dancing light o' the spray,
And sowed the sky with tiny clouds of love,
And sent you following the white waves of sea,
And crowned your head with fancies, nothing worth,
Stray buds from that old dust of misery,
Being glad with a new foolish quiet mirth.
So lightly I played with those dark memories,
Just as a child, beneath the summer skies,
Plays hour by hour with a strange shining stone,
For which (he knows not) towns were fire of old,
And love has been betrayed, and ****** done,
And great kings turned to a little bitter mould.

Rupert Brooke, The Pacific, October 1913


. Waikiki

WARM perfumes like a breath from vine and tree
      Drift down the darkness. Plangent, hidden from eyes
      Somewhere an 'eukaleli' thrills and cries
And stabs with pain the night's brown savagery.
And dark scents whisper; and dim waves creep to me,
      Gleam like a woman's hair, stretch out, and rise;
      And new stars burn into the ancient skies,
Over the murmurous soft Hawaian sea.
And I recall, lose, grasp, forget again,
      And still remember, a tale I have heard, or known,
An empty tale, of idleness and pain,
      Of two that loved -- - or did not love -- - and one
Whose perplexed heart did evil, foolishly,
A long while since, and by some other sea.

Rupert Brooke, Waikiki, 1913



OTHER POEMS

The Busy Heart

NOW that we've done our best and worst, and parted,
      I would fill my mind with thoughts that will not rend.
(O heart, I do not dare go empty-hearted)
      I'll think of Love in books, Love without end;
Women with child, content; and old men sleeping;
      And wet strong ploughlands, scarred for certain grain;
And babes that weep, and so forget their weeping;
      And the young heavens, forgetful after rain;
And evening hush, broken by homing wings;
      And Song's nobility, and Wisdom holy,
That live, we dead. I would think of a thousand things,
      Lovely and durable, and taste them slowly,
One after one, like tasting a sweet food.
I have need to busy my heart with quietude.


. Love

LOVE is a breach in the walls, a broken gate,
      Where that comes in that shall not go again;
Love sells the proud heart's citadel to Fate.
      They have known shame, who love unloved. Even then,
When two mouths, thirsty each for each, find slaking,
      And agony's forgot, and hushed the crying
Of credulous hearts, in heaven -- - such are but taking
      Their own poor dreams within their arms, and lying
Each in his lonely night, each with a ghost.
      Some share that night. But they know love grows colder,
Grows false and dull, that was sweet lies at most.
      Astonishment is no more in hand or shoulder,
But darkens, and dies out from kiss to kiss.
All this is love; and all love is but this.


. Unfortunate

HEART, you are restless as a paper scrap
      That's tossed down dusty pavements by the wind;
      Saying, "She is most wise, patient and kind.
Between the small hands folded in her lap
Surely a shamed head may bow down at length,
      And find forgiveness where the shadows stir
About her lips, and wisdom in her strength,
      Peace in her peace. Come to her, come to her!" . . .
She will not care. She'll smile to see me come,
      So that I think all Heaven in flower to fold me.
      She'll give me all I ask, kiss me and hold me,
           And open wide upon that holy air
The gates of peace, and take my tiredness home,
           Kinder than God. But, heart, she will not care.


. The Chilterns

YOUR hands, my dear, adorable,
      Your lips of tenderness
-- Oh, I've loved you faithfully and well,
      Three years, or a bit less.
      It wasn't a success.
Thank God, that's done! and I'll take the road,
      Quit of my youth and you,
The Roman road to Wendover
      By Tring and Lilley Hoo,
      As a free man may do.
For youth goes over, the joys that fly,
      The tears that follow fast;
And the dirtiest things we do must lie
      Forgotten at the last;
      Even Love goes past.
What's left behind I shall not find,
      The splendour and the pain;
The splash of sun, the shouting wind,
      And the brave sting of rain,
      I may not meet again.
But the years, that take the best away,
      Give something in the end;
And a better friend than love have they,
      For none to mar or mend,
      That have themselves to friend.
I shall desire and I shall find
      The best of my desires;
The autumn road, the mellow wind
      That soothes the darkening shires.
      And laughter, and inn-fires.
White mist about the black hedgerows,
      The slumbering Midland plain,
The silence where the clover grows,
      And the dead leaves in the lane,
      Certainly, these remain.
And I shall find some girl perhaps,
      And a better one than you,
With eyes as wise, but kindlier,
      And lips as soft, but true.
      And I daresay she will do.


. Home

I CAME back late and tired last night
      Into my little room,
To the long chair and the firelight
      And comfortable gloom.
But as I entered softly in
      I saw a woman there,
The line of neck and cheek and chin,
      The darkness of her hair,
The form of one I did not know
      Sitting in my chair.
I stood a moment fierce and still,
      Watching her neck and hair.
I made a step to her; and saw
      That there was no one there.
It was some trick of the firelight
      That made me see her there.
It was a chance of shade and light
      And the cushion in the chair.
Oh, all you happy over the earth,
      That night, how could I sleep?
I lay and watched the lonely gloom;
      And watched the moonlight creep
From wall to basin, round the room,
      All night I could not sleep.



. Beauty and Beauty

WHEN Beauty and Beauty meet
      All naked, fair to fair,
The earth is crying-sweet,
      And scattering-bright the air,
Eddying, dizzying, closing round,
      With soft and drunken laughter;
Veiling all that may befall
      After -- - after -- -
Where Beauty and Beauty met,
      Earth's still a-tremble there,
And winds are scented yet,
      And memory-soft the air,
Bosoming, folding glints of light,
      And shreds of shadowy laughter;
Not the tears that fill the years
      After -- - after -- -


. The Way That Lovers Use

THE way that lovers use is this;
      They bow, catch hands, with never a word,
And their lips meet, and they do kiss,
      -- - So I have heard.
They queerly find some healing so,
      And strange attainment in the touch;
There is a secret lovers know,
      -- - I have read as much.
And theirs no longer joy nor smart,
      Changing or ending, night or day;
But mouth to mouth, and heart on heart,
      -- - So lovers say.


1908 - 1911

Sonnet: "Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire"

OH! DEATH will find me, long before I tire
Of watching you; and swing me suddenly
Into the shade and loneliness and mire
Of the last land! There, waiting patiently,
One day, I think, I'll feel a cool wind blowing,
See a slow light across the Stygian tide,
And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing,
And tremble. And I shall know that you have died,
And watch you, a broad-browed and smiling dream,
Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host,
Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam -- -
Most individual and bewildering ghost! -- -
And turn, and toss your brown delightful head
Amusedly, among the ancient Dead.


. Sonnet: "I said I splendidly loved you; it's not true"

I SAID I splendidly loved you; it's not true.
Such long swift tides stir not a land-locked sea.
On gods or fools the high risk falls -- - on you -- -
The clean clear bitter-sweet that's not for me.
Love soars from earth to ecstasies unwist.
Love is flung Lucifer-like from Heaven to Hell.
But -- - there are wanderers in the middle mist,
Who cry for sh

What ever happened to Rupert
We don't see him anymore
A real childhood hero
Before and after the war.

He was there in our imagination
And in his world of fame
But if he's no longer with us
Now that would be a shame.

I was such a fan of Rupert
He is such an amazing Bear
He had so many adventures
And stories he would share.

Rupert had a lot of friends
A Fox a rabbit and mouse
Lets not forget Bill Badger
We cannot leave him out.

So what ever happened to Rupert
Did he really go away ?
Well children grow to be adults
But Rupert is here to stay.

Marno T. Rupert had nothing to lose, or so he thought as he sat on the moon. He held he breath. He didn't want to die so soon.

Marno T. Rupert had only gotten his powers about an hour or so ago. What he didn't know is though the river flows so slow up unto this point he grew so small.
The waterfall slows his fall but, Marno T. Rupert learned nothing at all.

He jumped back to earth to examine his worth.
He felt lonely, being the one and only under the sun... the only son of a gun who got super powers.

Marno T. Rupert could jump over towers, but he felt like he wasn't particularly great or good.
He always was late and misunderstood.
He didn't like "fate" or his neighborhood.

And so...
He went back home.
He zipped his lips.
After all, Marno T. Rupert was a pacifist.

He decided to become a scientist, a friend to society even though he could throw a car for miles and meanwhile bounce bullets off his chest.
You see?
He was super but a man.
Changed his brain and used his pen.

riupert is stupid isn’t he pat



you see he gives you foxtel like a **** that he is
he is a spazzo who cares for no poor men like me
if ya like foxtel, you are ******* up to rupert yeah
and i have the internet, cause i am left leaning and care for the
welfare of the poor
if you are a foxtel addict and don’t like sport
you are ******* up to rupert, yeah, MATE yEAH YOUR A ****
i am a ****, yeah a **** to the rich
i am persuading young udders
to help the homeless yeah
you see rich people haven/t got support from me
they just want to sucjk up to rupert buddy
i hate fotel, i prefer internet and fetch tv
it might be sort of rupert, but it is not you see
i am cool, cause i teased the men
cause as i say i am growing young
i hate rupert, i hate people who say i am a ****
cause i am the only one who really really really cares for the poor
not like these men who tease in clubs
they just wanna budge
and then you get a **** who says don’t worry about brian
cause brian allan is a cool kid to a muck around
and gets teased by whoever who wants to
i had fun teasing this man, ,cause it spoiled his perfect little world
i frowned at him like a cool kid
he frowned at me, like a little angry man
i said 100 times i don’t do behaving
so if ya want me t6 behave ya can kiss my curvy but, goodbye
anyone who gtries to hassle me
are all a bunch old cranky
remember the song
hail to the yobbos the yobbos the yobbos
hail to the yobbos and the old misery guts cranky men
hail to the yobbos the yobbos the yobbos
hail to the yobbos, and the ole cranky misery guts men
you see those men just want to be left alone left alone left alone
those men just want to be left alone
cause they are old misery guts men
so i don’t do this behaving myself
it is only for nerds
i like partying, even if it’s at home
if sydney win i will party party party
even have a champagne cause that’ll be cool
hail to the yobbos the yobbos the yobbos
hail to the yobbos and the old cranky man
this man at the club said go home and play with ya computer
hail he’s old cranky man, who wants none of us young dudes
to spoil his perfect little world
my middle name is fun, my last name is control
you say i am an alien, cause i am an allan
alien from the planet fun to help poor handle life
who cares about the rich, they have money, duuuudes
i am a cool kid to the poor, but if i haven’t got enough money
i don’t give, but i am left leaning labor voting
HEY TONY ABBOTT GIVE US A GO
STOP HELPING THE RICH GET ME ON TV

Rupert Timlin, is at it again
Got incredibly drunk and beat his girlfriend
Now, he’s going down, going down town
And we all really want to know what went on

Now he’s charged with quite a few
Offences and he knew
He’d gown down, he’s going down
And we all really want to know what went on

Underage drinking played its part once more
Misplaced aggression played its part once more
The cut and the bruises on her, what was it for?

Well I may be young
But I know what’s
Right and wrong my friend

Rupert Timlin, is at it again
Rupert Timlin, is at it again
Rupert Timlin, is at it again

INTRODUCTION TO THE FIRST WORLD WAR
            BY RAJ NANDY: PART ONE

                   INTRODUCTION
  “What passing-bells for those who die as cattle?
         Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
        Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
    Can patter out their hasty orisons.”
      -by Wilfred Owen, British Army Lt. killed in
        action in France on 04th Nov 1918.

The Socialists called it the ‘Imperialist’s War’,
and it was the ‘Trench War’ for the soldiers;
But Europe hailed it as ‘The War to End All Wars’,                
Expecting it to end prior to 1914’s Christmas!
But alas, it soon became a mighty global war
fueled by national and ethnic aspirations and
territorial lust!
The assassination of Archduke Ferdinand, heir
to the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy, -
On the 28thof June 1914 at Sarajevo, was the
spark which triggered off this great catastrophe!
During 1876 when German Chancellor Bismarck
was asked about chances of an European War at
a future date;
He felt that Europe was like a big store house of
gunpowder keg!
While pointing to the volatile BALKANS he had said,
That European leaders were smoking in an arsenal,
where a small spark could cause a mighty explosion!
And 38 years later the world had witnessed,
Bismarck’s unfortunate prediction!
This war ended on 11th of November 1918, after a
four and half year’s long duration;
With 16.5 million military and civilian deaths, and
many more wounded and missing in action!
For the War had spread beyond the traditional
killing fields,
Killing many innocent civilians following the
bombing raids by German Zeppelins!
Now, before proceeding further some background
information here becomes necessary,
To understand the socio-political events leading
to the unfolding of this Great War Story!

         PRELUDE TO THE GREAT WAR
The Nationalistic fervor aroused by Napoleon,
And the February Revolution of 1848 in France,
Inspired Europe’s inhabitants to preserve their
ethnic and racial identities, without leaving
things to chance!
The Italian and German unification, and the
Hapsburg Austro-Hungarian polarization,
Aroused the expectations of the Slavic people,
Who remained spread all over Central and
Eastern Europe!
The various ethnic groups forming the Slavic race,
Always dreamt of an independent Balkan State!

         CAUSES FOR ‘THE GREAT WAR’
Imperialism, Nationalism, Militarization, Alliances,
and finally the assassination of the Archduke
Ferdinand,
Are the five main causes for this war, which is
generally mentioned by our Historians!
However, I shall now try to acquaint you briefly,  
With some relevant events from our recorded
History.

BRITISH IMPERIALISM:
Towards the turn of the 20th century Britain was
the dominant global imperial power;
And since the mid-19th Century it was seen that
the sun never set over the British Empire!
The British had a vast mercantile and a naval fleet,
To trade with, and administer their far flung colonies.
At the turn of the 20th Century the British Navy was
changing over from steam to oil power like other
big nations;
So the oil fields of the Middle East was important
for British militarization.
Also passage through the Suez Canal was vital for
maintaining their colonial possessions!
These facts will get linked up in Part Two of my
later composition!

GERMAN NATIONALISM:
The nationalistic fervor aroused in Germany
since Chancellor Bismarck’s days,
Made the Germans try to outstrip the British
in many ways!
This fervor was reflected in Goethe’s poetry and
through Richard Wagner’s musical notes;
Between 1898 and 1912 five Naval Laws were
passed in the German Reichstag, by majority
votes,
For building battleships, cruisers, and 96 torpedo
boats;
Which later became a scourge for Allied and
British shipping, known as the U-Boats!
The German nationalism and militarization went
hand in hand during those days,
While her industrialization also progressed at a
rapid pace.
Kaiser Wilhelm II had sought “a place in the sun”
by trying to outstrip the British in the arms race!
Statistic show more number of German scientists
had received the Noble Prize for their inventions,
Between this period and World War- II, when
compared with the combined winners of other
Western nations!

AUSTRIA-HUNGARIAN MONARCHY:
In 1867 by a comprising agreement between
Vienna and Budapest the capital cities,
The Austro-Hungarian kingdom became a Dual
Monarchy!
Many ethnic groups had composed this Monarchy
in those early days as we see;
With Germans, Hungarians, Romanians, and Slavic
people like the Czechs, Poles, Croats, Slovaks,
Serbs, and the Slovenes!
While the Austrian Officers of this Monarchy spoke
German, the majority of the soldiers were Hungarians,
Czechs, Slovaks, who never spoke German!
So the soldiers were taught 68 single-words of
German commands,
For the Austro-Hungarian Imperial Army to function
collectively as one!
While Francis Joseph their sovereign and emperor,
aspired to become a strong centralized European
power.
But out of the 50 million people of this Monarchy
around 23 million were Slavs,
Who always dreamed of an independent Slavic
Kingdom in the Balkans!

THE BALKANS & THE KINGDOM OF SERBIA
After the Iberian and the Italian peninsulas of
Europe, the BALKAN peninsular is seen to be
lying in Europe’s extreme south east, -
South of the Danube and Sava River, bounded
in the west by the Adriatic and Ionian Sea.
In the east is the Aegean and Black Sea,
With the Mediterranean Sea in the south, -
washing the tip formed by Greece with its many
islands around!
Now much of the Balkan areas were under the
Ottoman Empire since early 14th Century;
And here I cut across many centuries of past
European History!
Following a series of revolutions since 1804
against the Turks,
The Principality of Serbia was carved out in the
area of the Balkans!
A new constitution in 1869 defined it as an
independent State of Serbia;
Was internationally recognized at the Treaty
of Berlin in 1878, to later become the Kingdom
of Serbia!
This kingdom was located south adjoining the
Monarchy of Austro-Hungarians, much to their
annoyance those days,
Since the Kingdom of Serbia was looked upon
as a ‘beacon of liberty’ by the Southern Slavic
race!

THE BOSNIAN CRISIS (1908-1909)  
This dual provinces of Bosnia and Herzegovina
in the Balkans,
Were formally under the control of the
Ottoman Sultan.
With permission of the Congress of Berlin in
1878, it was administered by Austria-Hungary;
Though the legal rights remained with Turkey!
But the Slavic population present there had
Nationalistic ambitions,
Aspired to join the Slavs in nearby Kingdom of
Serbia, to form a pan-Slavic nation!
The Slavic population in Austria-Hungary, also
entertained such dreams wistfully!
Now in 1908 a ‘Young Turk Movement’ based
at Macedonia,
Had planned to replace the absolute Turkish
rule in Bosnia!
And by modernizing the Constitution hoped
to rejuvenate the sick Ottoman Empire.
These developments set alarm bells ringing
in Austrian capital Vienna!
So on the 6th of October 1908 they quickly
annexed Bosnia and Herzegovina!
After having lost a war with Japan, and following
an internal Revolution of 1905 the Russians,
Prevented an escalation by staying out of the
Bosnian Crisis!
But the annexation of Bosnia had angered the
Serbs greatly,
So they started to train secret terrorist groups to
liberate Bosnia from Austria-Hungary!
These terrorist groups operated in small cells,
Under the leadership of Col. Dimitrijevic, also
known as the ‘Apis’ those days.
Now, a secret cell called the ‘Black Hand’ operated
in the Bosnian capital of Sarajevo with Gavrilo
Princep as one of its members;
Who was trained and equipped in Serbia along
with other ‘Black Hand’ members.
The Austro-Hungarian Monarchy had remained
distressed about these subversive activities by
the Slavic race!
So in Jan 1909 they obtained the unconditional
support from Germany, in the event of a war
with Serbia even if Austria was the aggressor!
And also secretly hoped in a war to annex
Serbian territory!
For in the two Balkan Wars of 1912 and 1913,
Serbia had greatly extended its territory to
become a powerful adversary!
Serbia had also obtained an assurance from
its protector Russia, should a war break out with
Austria!
Now, as tension mounted upsetting the delicate
balance of power in the Balkans gradually,
Archduke Franz Ferdinand with his wife Sophie,
planned to visit Sarajevo from Austria-Hungary!
It was a God sent moment for the secret
organization the ‘Black Hand’,
To plan the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand!

THE ASSASSINATION: SARAJEVO 28TH JUNE 1914
Now when I look back in time I pause to wonder,
How such an amateurish assassination plot could
have ever succeeded,
Without the cruel hands of destiny and fate!
The 28th of June was a bright summer’s St. Vitus
Day and a holiday in Serbia;
And also the 14th marriage anniversary of Franz
Fernandez and his wife Sophia!
Several assassins were positioned along the route,
Which was to be taken by the Archduke!
While the motorcade proceeded to the Town Hall
a bomb was thrown,
Which bounced off the rear of Archduke’s car,
Injuring few bystanders and a passenger in the
rear car!
The Archduke however refused to cancel his trip,
Saying that it was the act of some lunatic!
After completion of the Town Hall ceremony, the
Archduke wanted a change of plan deviating from
the laid down route;
By wanting to visit the patients in the hospital,
Injured by the bomb which had struck his cars
rear hood!
But the Czech driver was not briefed and took
a wrong turn by mistake;
Reversed trying to correct himself, stalled the car
stoppling next to Gavrilo Princep!
Presenting Princep with a stationary target, a
cruel work of destiny and fate!
Prince pulled out his pistol and fired two shots  
at a point blank range, killing both Ferdinand
and  wife Sophie;
When Ferdinand cried out ‘’Sophie, Sophie,
don’t die, live for the children’’, - words which
now remain enshrined in History!

TRIAL OF PRINCEP & THE CONSPIRATORS
The trial began in a military court on 12th of
October at Sarajevo,
With three judges and no jury, when Princep
pleaded 'Not Guilty'!
Killing of Duchess Sophie was an unplanned
accident,
Since he wanted to **** the Governor instead!
He claimed to be a Serbian nationalist working
for the unification of the Slavic race,
and detested the annexation of Bosnia by the
Austo-Hungarians!
Along with 15 other accused, Princep was found
guilty of high treason;
But being underage, was sentenced to 20 years
labour in prison.
But died three year's later from tuberculosis!

           CONCLUDING PART ONE
  ''Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead!
   There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,
   But dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold."
      -Rupert Brook, part of the British Naval Expeditionary
       Force, buried in Skyros, Greece 1914.
Now, looking back over a hundred years in
hindsight I do realize,
That this assassination was not the immediate
cause or the spark which triggered this War,
But only an excuse and a pretext for the
Austro-Hungarians to carve up Serbia,
And distribute those territories between
Allies and friends of Austria;
Also enhance the prestige of their Empire!
Since the war had commenced almost two
months after the Archduke’s assassination,
Austria had lost the high moral ground for
vengeance with righteous indignation!
It was a cynical and a predetermined plan
of Austria in connivance with Germany,
To destroy Serbia and squash the hopes of
Slavic people for a pan-Slavic State, - as we
now get to see!
This war ended with the dissolution of four old
Empires of the Austro-Hungarians, Ottomans,
Tsarist Russians, and the Germans!
While new nations of Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia,
Austria, and Hungary, got created from the
dissolved Empire of Austria-Hungary.
Russia gave up lands creating Finland, Estonia,
Latvia, and Lithuania.
The Ottomans gave up lands in SW Asia and the
Middle East, and in Europe retained only Turkey!
Thus this Great War had creating new nation states,
And gave Europe its new revamped face!
Composed by Raj Nandy of New Delhi,
Thanks for reading patiently!
   TO BE CONTINUED LATER AS PART TWO
**ALL COPY RIGHTS ARE WITH THE AUTHOR

I do not agree that there is a ‘forever England’.
How could I, when I can’t even recognise my face?
For all of the innocence that died in a decade,
For the concrete and car parks
Built over my childhood's place.

oh, ****, i'm so full of love it's spilling out of me
like bullet wounds, like i've been court martialed,
like i'm the pinpoint of a broken sheet of glass,
the part from which everything else shatters;
of course i'm the centre of the universe,
who else would be? who else could love this way,
fierce and terrible and hating? who else other than me
could break the universe for another chance at hello
or at two thousand and nineteen?

which isn't to say i'm manic. which isn't to say
that i don't cry in the shower and scream in the car.
i do. but when i do, i'm the main event;
nobody booked tickets to see anybody but me here.
don't kid yourself, world. don't make me laugh.
don't act like everything is okay when i'm breaking the baby-bird bones
of my fingers every time someone else talks.
me, the human stress ball.

me, twenty stories tall and universe-filled with love,
nothing else can even come close. i'm ******* godzilla,
i'm interplanetary, i'm that giant ******* marshmallow man
from ghostbusters getting shot at by the heroes.
maybe there's just too much of me to love the way i need
to be loved; completely, obsessively, like an illness.

oh, god, i want to be loved like i'm sick.
not just another hospital bed but the whole **** ward
all for me. all eyes on me. nobody looking anywhere but me
and oh, please, i'm fine, really,
i don't need all this attention.

like i'm daring the world to divert it away.

a birthday list of gifts:
- a fifth of whiskey
- a gun with one bullet
- the attention that people get from the crowd below before they jump off a building

i don't think i'm asking for too much here.
i feel like i'm one of those unlucky ******* born on christmas day
who get half the presents for twice the occasion.
how cruel must god be to birth me anywhere but eden,
into a world where other people exist,
where we have jobs and say hello to store cashiers and divide up our attention like slices of mandarin.

so where's this revolution i ordered?
where are the people making me important?
i need a cause to lead and a muzzle for my heart,
and i'll burn on and out,
not like a star, but like the end of the ******* universe itself.

and here i am, acting like i matter
when i really only want to matter to you.
i don't care how you want me to revolve
as long as i'm a lone moon. as long as the tides
are all mine; see, it's a lot more complex
than me playing easy villain or anti hero. it's not
been about me this entire time.

but i can't write poems about any other subject.

I'm Bored in Brighton
Can't you see?
I'm locked here in this mansion
with just my family.

I'm Bored in Brighton
Yes, I've traipsed the streets
From Church to Bay to Hampton
I've jogged along the beach!

I'm Bored of Brighton
The Daimler's in the drive
The staff? Well they've just up and gone
All this to stay alive?

I'm Bored of Brighton
The twins are going mad.
And Rupert? Rupert's all a-moan
It's just so terribly sad!

I'm Bored of Brighton
The cavoodle looks a fright!
O heck! O no! It can't be so!
My Lulu's ...they're slightly tight!

I'm Bored with Brighton
You people are the pitts!
Try Lockdown in a high rise
And don't give us the pip!

For Pennsylvania is the Land
Where Men with Hearts may Understand,
And much the nicest part must be
The County of Montgomery.
And in that district I most like
The town that ends the Pottstown Pike.
For heaven's blessings rarely stick
to folk who live in Limerick,
and you would be the worse to know
the crimes that they commit in Stowe,
and heaven's wrath comes raining down
on men who live in Boyertown,
where sins are strange, and stranger still
are secrets hid in Douglasville;
they'd slit your throat for twenty pence
in frightful Lower Providence
and rumour tells me true that no men
are virtuous in Perkiomen.
But Pottstown, oh, but dear Pottstown!
Why, there a person may lie down
upon its riverbanks so stony,
or paddle in the Manatawny.
They laugh and love their life so well
They're purchasing a carousel.
(And when they get to feeling old,
A thousand senior Cokes are sold
with super fries and apple pie:
McDonalds, Hanover and High.)

you see there are problems in the world, but having patrick dunbar and greame thornes

previous life pattern, in my buddha cycle, like having thoughts of going out feeling like kids were playing games

with you, first of all, they will plant all these rats and feral cats and angry dogs, attempting to attack you

at every turn, and also back then when my place was messy, there were rats and dogs just walking in my

parents laundry, and it made me have problems cleaning my house, and i wondered why we saw rats and feral cats

and my cat muscles was also turning feral and i wanted to calm him down, and i started having my hooligans visions

coming when i went out, when i saw kids laughing or screaming in a drain in wanniassa, and this made me feel bad

i told the messiah about it, and he hated it as well, thinking, someone put the kids down there, and then i heard my

mate patrick, say, i am not mucking with the crazy person, because i was getting his clean mind giving me all sorts of delusions

making me feel, he was poisoning my mind with all these delusions like, muscles is the dingo that killed azaria, you see

i was battling my delusions, ya know, having a hard time, with a mate who hated what rupert murdoch was doing to this world

and i was wanting foxtel, but i seriously couldn’t afford, because rupert murdoch had the prices go too high, and when i had

foxtel, i remember i was in dilusion land, ya know, thinking i was getting a private jet to fly to the USA, to volunteer at a major league baseball match

and another thing too, i felt i was given USA TV, because, my delusions were putting the AFL, on the sunday night, and there was

a USAFL match, on there as well, and, i was having a great time doing volunteer work on the street, at the footy, i loved that, and i did

volunteer work at vinnies, i liked that, and i liked playing santa claus too, but i don’t do that now, i picked up all this ******* outside kingsley’s

and i got honoured for that, and i helped cook the meals at the rainbow, i loved that, but nowadays they turned it into a course, and i liked the

idea of giving the mentally ill people a good meal, and i worked at the softball field, in the 2003 masters games, and i cleared tables as well

as other jobs to do around there, i also worked at the kanga cup soccer, but i hated the last day, when they made us do crowd control, not my forte

and because my house was messy, my parents just went mmmm mmmmmm mmmmm, and this drove me crazy, i don’t want to miss out on opportunities

just because my house is untidy, i tried and cleaned my house, the best as i could, but i was hearing voices, you must help here, you must help there

you must help everywhere, the men will talk to me, if i helped people, and i loved when a man said to to me, your doing a good job, mate, and i liked

when men said, keeping busy, mate, and when i said yes, they said good, good, and when i said hello to dad, dad just did a sigh old hi, saying, i was only

like him if i cleaned my house, and yes, i know it’s important to clean my house, so i have a cleaner come Monday mornings, but, i wish there were opportunities

out there, where i can show off my novels to important people, i don’t want any cats anymore, one reason, i can’t look after a cat very well, and i could see lots of

rats and mice in my flat, and i am scared of rats and mice, because of the disease factor, and animals to me, i find, could send me to the psych ward

i know cleaning my house is important, and getting rid of rodents, is a way to clean, you see, lately i say, i got to help the poor, every time i see a poor man

give him money, cause i am not a rich *****, and i am not, and i spend money to try and give me things, i like computers, i was using the computer as a place

to display all my previous life and current life anger, but dad looked at my stories, as not very nice, but i was expressing where my anger is coming from

i want to have novels written and ideas pushed over to television, now i don’t want a cat anymore, or a dog or a mouse or a rat, i prefer to keep myself from

buying any sort of animal, because every time i am asked to do something,like take care of a cat, i go crazy, and i get cranky, cause i haven’t got a perfect life

because my parents have twisted m thoughts around in my head, if i had someone to live with, or moved to another city, with the same services, i will feel good

about myself, because i would still get the cleaning done as well have carers and i need a job, i need a job, i want to show people how to write their problems out of them

i hate being treated like a girl from bay watch, getting kidnapped by old good mates because they fucken agree with parents ruling over their kids and i don’t

because i am going to get what i want and i am not aiming too high,my stories are good enough and even this story, please leave me alone, i want the perfect life

i crave the perfect life, and as long as i don’t buy a cat, i am fine

Rugby town, of landlocked streets,
of wasted field and barefaced retreat;
I miss you now, in absence of a friend,
I miss you now, in the verse that I lend.

Suburb grove, of sleepy mist,
oh, battered housewife, oh blastocyst;
you will remain in place forevermore,
and forevermore, you'll become a bore.

Holding cell, of sporting fame,
you stole my dreams but gave me my name;
I think of you: a multi-storey view,
of happy faces, of which there is few.

Still, my town, in debt's nightgown,
the shop-fronts vacate, we're feeling down;
these streets are poisoned with names of the past,
each memoir to teach: nothing's built to last

Rugby town, of weary folk,
the private school is a private joke;
I miss you now, as I sleep through the day,
I miss the old walks, and all that you'd say.

Old market town, the aftermath,
of British summer, suicide bath;
of open mics and closing the shutters,
of waking graveyards, sleeping in gutters.

Hopeless climbs, of dreary times,
of childhood state and nursery rhymes;
each time that I come home, I know you less,
becoming a stranger in my redress.

Clock tower, chiming, chiming loud,
singing for history long and proud;
of Rupert Brooke and the question: “what if?”
What if I was born to some lover's tiff?

To some large and friendless town,
to some body of land, which I drown;
to some active place of pain unknown,
to some place that I'll not gauge that I've grown,

oh Rugby dear, stay with me,
let  me live on the periphery;
and although this town seems terribly dull,
it could be worse – I could live in Hull.

Rupert got down off his horse
gave out a hand.

I have seen this town grow
through the tides of my time,
to the low and call of the market men,
to all of my drinks laced with lime.

The cracks form in concrete,
as they do to my aging face,
but never are the streets unrecognisable.
No, here, I can always find a place.

And the clock tower calls,
just to signify the passing day,
oh, all of life’s sorrow falls
to the saying: “come what may.”

I know you all, I’ve seen you crawl
through these jobs; waiting tables,
pouring wine, and shooting pool
in the stagnant afternoons;
claiming your past as part of mine.

Rupert Brooke is now but a name,
some archaic poet of yesterday.
His name now naught but of drinking fame,
as all the customers line up to pay.

Oh, I miss my childhood, old friends now past,
only stark reminders that nothing is built to last.
I need you now, my lifelong friend;

to my soul, give warmth,
to my heart, please mend.

Old Katherine Kimberly had a sty near her eye
it was a bleeding abhorrent electric
dream spilling out her sanity
the sty was not just any regular sty
it was a satyr placed there by cruel forever
just because
why not

old KATHERINE KIMBERLY had a
mute cousin who came over for tea
when K.K was feeling down, he wanted to be a comedian
but this wouldn't work out for obvious reasons.
old Katherine Kimberly
had a recurring nightmare involving the world around her inverting it's layout, a backwards realm with backwards chairs and backwards backs
everyone looking like they suffered a dramatic accident
spine snapped but still walking
she was the outcast with her even shoulders and
delicate form but there it was that sty by her eye
wouldn't quit not even with sleep.
She went to see a doctor about the nightmares he prescribed a miracle
didn't work
so she went to church
met some wiry bald-spot
evangelic addict figure who
gave her mysterious bagged-and-untagged drugs
(those didn't work either)
nothing would help.. Kimberly came to the conclusion that the sty and the dreams were correlated in some spiritual, cursed sort of way.
Nobody could see it they promised

"No! no! you look fine, everything is in order god knows what you're on about Kim"

but she scratched and scratched for hours in her bedroom and looked in the faded mirror with microscopic detail and sure enough it was/gone??
since when??
she could feel it there, she was no hypochondriac it was alive and feeding off her still
that HORRIBLE THING!
some months now or maybe more it had always weighed her down but now gone
or never there...?
IMPOSSIBLE!
this wasn't over, old Katherine Kimberly would tear this ****** apart on a sub-atomic level and make sure it would never haunt her in any respect from "this day forth!" she said poetically,
wearing a conservatively fashioned dress with green flowers on it
and green grass, too.

She took to the New York subway on a Wednesday, the time was.......2pm
and she was headed to the drycleaners but not the one closest her apartment, the people that ran that one were pushy and irritating.
She was going to "Maude's" she and Maude had lovely conversations about the Gardener who lived one floor up from her who sometimes allowed a small hello from his lips on the way up, off of work.
She liked what he liked
or at least she imagined that to be true
but then again we all do that
it's a bad habit
he could be a total *******, she thought.
Old Katherine Kimberly walked in and opened the backroom there was Maude listening to Brian Eno
(Cindy Tells me/HERE COME THE WARM JETS/1974)

"THE RICH GIRLS ARE WEEPING"

Maude heard K.K come in and swiveled around in her office chair with the one off-kilter wheel which she didn't do a very good job of fixing.
"Well I don't shop at Ikea, its no wonder why, Kat"

"This sty! I know it looks like it's gone, but it isn't, do you still have any of that herbal remedy stuff you told me about earlier?"

"yeah, yeah.. the stuff you refused take way back when?"

"I admit I was being stupid, I just need help, I'm out of options and I'm kind of on a bad trip right now, see? some ghoul at the church gave me these pretty pink pills, said they were from mars and that they could cure anything! O Maude I was desperate and now I'm hallucinating all sorts of wack. I'm afraid I won't come back from this! I dunno what to do Maude! I dunno what to do!"

"Relaxxxx poor doll, you're always getting caught up in messes like this. It's like I said! you gotta settle down with that Rupert, he seems like a genuine guy, real caring, real. I'll help you, I have that herbal medicine in my car I will be right back"

Maude left hastily with a pat on K.K's shoulders as she went
K.K was going cuckoo
she suddenly felt that on a very metaphysical level her atoms were remembering this drug
always
and that when she died, eventually..some innocent child would be reconstituted with her atoms
to live with this for all time
and to be forcefully admitted into a psychiatric ward
pleading for lobotomy!

"What is this? what did I take? does that Kubrick-looking ****** use this often? how is he even tethered to reality?" she was dizzy, good thing she was sitting down..

Maude came back, shaking her head in sympathetic disapproval
"Jeez.. you've gone down the rabbit hole as far as ailment is concerned, that's for sure"

"What do you mean..?" Katherine Kimberly kept her feet grounded to the carpet as to not sway reality to a snowglobe catastrophe.

"Well you say the sty has something to do with the nightmares, or vice-versa, so you took drugs from a complete stranger! only made things worse, I'm sure.. and now you've come to me"

"That's true" K.K agreed
"Why do this to yourself?"
"I've been lost, out of tune, completely washed.."
(((((())))(((((()(((((((((())))(())))))))))()()()))))((­(())))))))))
she was going to continue, but felt like vomiting

She lept from her seat and hunted for a bathroom,
A vicious tabla bleached her brain
with supernatural viscosity
her body played like a cosmic instrument
for a higher being in a higher realm.
Next, the frantic sitar which reminded K.K of July and
the humid balcony marijuana, Ravi Shankar melodically spinning in her living room.
This was a much different experience.. as made clear by her
convulsions
the viper's final dose of venom

"The great spirit lifted his hand without much ado, and split apart Flower Mountain's ten million layers." - from Elder Ting Stands Motionless. (Blue Cliff Record)

"-******* that ******* from the church
why I ever listened to him-
-I feel like I am afloat atop the world able to see the stars as vibrant eyes! but I'm wavering without a sense of gravity. I am at once motionless and spinning!-"

A lot more trouble than it was worth,
O the wisdom of consequence!
K.K, poor doll, lucid consciousness
and an acute awareness for her disposition in this Universe
and all alternate universes for that matter.
(Including the version of her that decided against taking those pink pills from that pink-cheeked man, Stanley Kubrick lookalike ******* probably only posing as a religious man, they never met in one reality, they ****** in another. In one he is god! he is the only god! and in one she is god! anything better than this reality now! her lungs foaming up with death)

GLOBE-O-VOOTY/
GUIDE-O/
ME SOFTLY/
GET THIS THREY-WAY/
OUT FROM MY MIND/
(That's VOUT language for you, there. Slim Gaillard's timeless bop language)

after puking up the rest of her morning meal
she wiped her mouth dry with her sleeve and
reunited w/ Maude who handed K.K that herbal
music
and wished her well

"Look, I know it's none of my bussiness.. but if I were in your shoes, I'd make some changes.. that's all I'm gonna say about THAT"

so Katherine Kimberly went home, she wept
wept about her disposition
about her mistakes
about that inoperable mental sty which was more than a sty
parasitically latched onto her for ages
she wept about how boring people were
how after all this protest and bloodshed
we're just the same as before if not less intellectual!
this fever dream of a day hath made her realize
that she SHOULD make a change.
Hell, Maude was right, sometimes insufferable (tho not as much as others)
She couldn't keep doing this, whatever this was.

The herbal medicine was contained in some cutesy vial
a kind of amber-shade
thick liquid.
Just in the fashion of Lewis Caroll she
drank up her prayer potion, with the sensation that the room was expanding around her, shrunk down to the pathetic dreamer once again,
and so she tried to sleep this desperate sickness off.

One floor up, Rupert thought about whether or not he should *******, he decided to make some coffee instead, continuing where he left off on a new-age book about hypnotism.

Captured in the psych ward part 5


You see Ron cooper and his ex Sally went on a cruise around noumea and New Caledonia and they really enjoyed that a lot and while they were on that cruise, brad was in a fowl tenoer cause everyone was watching the shows he doesn't wanna watch and Robert told brad that in life **** happens and brad said ******* and started to argue with the nurses saying he is the Buddhist messiah and needs to be given a special drug to take him to nirvana and he had a smart alek nurse say, I ain't religious, so I don't care and I think nirvana is a rock band not eternity ok patty walked in and said, I wanna see the nurse. And when the nurse came patty said, I have just came from Washington DC
And I saw president Obama and introduced mysrlf and he was proud to meet good old George Washington. You see. Well anyway thank you for that ticket to the states, it was muck appreciated and
Martin Kelly was banging the wall very loudly and saying you **** you **** you **** and Anne who was on the other side said as she walked past said you fucken stop banging on the wall you kid grabber or phedaphile yeah stop banging ya phedaphile or I wlll bash you up, I am going to bash you up, you see you can't hide here forever, one day the hospital will say your fit to go home but when I see you our there. Mate I will bash ya ****, ya stupid ****** phedaphile and Robert got up to take a **** and they bought lunch out and a fight between Anne and brad and Susan started to erupt and the nurses were having a hard time, they had to bring in the doctors with the ****** and lock them in their rooms abs Ron and and Sally are having a great time in New Caledonia waking around and Ron'a leg is getting better and you see Ron and Sally are really beginning to hit it off as they are in a pub having a scotch and back at the HDU. Brad and Anne were cursing at each other through the walls but both wanted enough power to break the walls
But they couldn't hear each other cause thru were on the opposite sides if each other and Susan went our and said shut up abe went over to the TV and said to Robert, we are watching TV, please don't talk to me. I ain't into talking to kids, so just keep your conversation. To a minimum and Patru roe said.  How about you shut up Susan, Robert is a funny little kid, I line him and dusab said ******* ya **** and then Kate walked around the whole psych ward and as she passed brads room she said. Why don't you shut the **** up snd Ron and Sally were having inter course in the cruise and
The new patient was being driven by the police to the HDU but this was going to be a strange situation you see young 19 year old jack Drendlw had ******* a 10 year old who teased him and it ended up killing him abd to that day the police have been trying to crack this ****** case and the boys parents were told that jack is mentally ill and isn't going to jail
And going  to the HDU and the boys parents couldn't except it so they stole a police paddy wagon dressed up as police men and took jack hostage saying he is going to the HDU and instead they took jack into
Their house and tied him up in their sons room and this was part of their plan to really make Jack suffer for what he did /and this is going to be sweet revenge and back at the hospital when they got the phonecall saying that jack wasn't there, well they rang the police and yes they knew where he lived but it would be a nightmare to get there and the next day Ron and Sally's ship was arriving into Sydney harbour and when they arrived there, Ron said goodbye to Sally who lived in Sydney as she drove him to the airport and then Ron boarded the plane for Melbourne and when he touched down, in Melbourne Ron gor his luggage and gor a taxi home
And dropped off his bags and before he unpacked he put the 3-00 news on nine and heard about jack being tortured by his victims parents but the police said jack was supposed to be at the rmh HDU  and Ron went straight there to see if everything is alright and he got theu and clocked in and went to the HDU and said what had happened, how did thus one fall through the cracks and the nurses seid that the family of the victim didn't like the idea of him bring sent here. Ya see it's too nice for him and Ron said they can't think they taking the law in their own hands like this and Ron went into the HDU to check our the patients and
Saw Robert and patty in rte common room and Susan and Kate knitting together in the dining room and Kate asked how was your cruise and Ron said, it was ****** good and my leg is healed and are you feeling alright
And they said yeah and then went to solitary to say hi to Martin and George and Anne and they said ******* **** and ajnne said did ya enjoy ya cruise and Ron said I Did and them said hi to brad and brad said ******* and when he found our it was Ron, the first question he asked was how was your cruise and do you know it's great that you can go on a cruise whole we are locked in here, you see you are like fucken Rupert Murdoxh with those poor foxtel suckers and then the dinner cart was coming out and Ron clocked off and went home and made some stir fry
And Singapore noodles and looked our the window and two young people were having a domestic and at first Ron said, I roll leave then alone but suddenly the bloke gor out
His gun and threatened to **** her and calked the cops and went down
To save the woman and the man has paranoid schizophrenia which was ****** obvious and it took 25 minutes for the cops to arrive and when they did the man was arrested and sent to the staton and the lady thanked Ron and Ron asked are you going to be ok and and she said yeah. And Ron went up yo her unit and sat on the couch and watched the TV and fell asleep on the couch
He has had a hard day


Sent from my iPhone

You could hear her
calling your name
along the passage
her Polish kind

of broken English
was unmistakable
you hid by the sink
of Mr Atkinson's room

the other side
of the panel
which hid you
from view

from the door
Benedict are you up here?
Sophia called
you leaned back

as far as you could
in case she should
open the door
and peer in

you could hear
her flip-flops
on the linoleum floor
I want you

she said
want you
speak to me
you noticed Mr Atkinson's

Rupert annual
on the dresser
across the room
(he had a child's mind

and loved those books)
you also noticed
a glimpse of your refection
in the dresser's mirror

black trousers
white coat
red tie
and white shirt

she'd stopped outside
the door of Mr Cutler's room
she knocked
and opened

Benedict are you here?
no
you whispered
in undertone voice

where the **** are you?
you heard her say
she closed Mr Cutler's door
and waited outside

the room you were in
you sensed her breathing
her tap tap on the door
you squeezed yourself

hard against the sink
last time she'd caught you
up here on the old men's wing
she had you

on Mr Haymaker's bed
her slim 19 year old body
wrapped about you
her blonde hair tied

in a black bow
her body saying
go go go
Benedict are you here?

you shook your head
hands behind your back
your backside pushed hard
against the enamel sink

I want talk to you
she said
she opened the door
and looked in

out of the window opposite
you you could see trees
swaying in the breeze
the sky grey blue

she came into the room
and picked up
the Rupert annual
from the dresser

you saw her blue uniform
the back of her slim body
the narrowed waist
the shapely backside

the well shaped legs
her blonde hair
tied at the back
with the familiar ribbon

you bit your lip
and held your breath
she scanned through
the annual

flicking pages
gazing at pictures
if she gazed
in the dresser mirror

she'd see your reflection
Benedict
she said to herself
I've red underwear on

you stopped breathing
stared at her back
the way she stood
she put down

the annual
on the dresser
retreated back out
of the room

not turning to look
around the room
the door closed
you heard her flip-flops

move away
along the passageway
no one would believe you
if you told them

and whatever they may say
you had escaped
from Sophia
for another day.

When things are put into perspective
everything becomes poetic
and beautiful
Even the grey snow on the freezing cold pavement
in this town that I hate

But an exchange of art and beauty
gives a good perspective
Today, Monday, I can thank Julia for that.
Thank you Julia.

On Saturday a cat followed me home
After my favorite evening of this year
so far
I wanted to keep him, but I knew I could not.
So I let him go (since: if you love something...)

And on Friday a four-year-long tension was released
(well, almost.)
How ya doin'? repeated over and over
I was just fine.

Now, today, still Monday
I sit in a coffee shop drinking coffee with soy
which I hate
waving at every third person that walks by the window
in this small, predictable town

Oh, to be lost in a sea of people
Where buildings tower above me
in a city that so many hate
But a city that I long for every day.

It's been a year since
the water took you
or the sky took you
or you just went away.
I don't know which
but I know that you're gone.
I remember the first time we met.
I told you that your name sounded like it should be a character in
Harry Potter.
You knew just what I meant.
Little did I know in that moment
that you'd become
one of the greatest characters
I'd meet in my life.
See here's the thing:
I've always been scared of death.
Of how it takes
and never gives a single ****
for what it leaves behind,
for who it leaves behind.
And now after another winter's passed
I sometimes think of how
I never got to thank you,
Of how she never got to love you,
Not fully
and of how I can't seem
to look at a river the same
or how I don't think I ever will.
I don't know how to write
a eulogy, nor am I trying to
But I also don't know how to
say goodbye to that
laugh of laughs or a soul
that shone so bright.
So here's a poem, Rup-
A year late and a goodbye short.

Are we to reject a greater unity
for the sake of a superficial
sovereignty.
For does not the richness of
every need its canvas.
And every flower deserve a special
place in the garden.
As every star sits in the nights sky
belonging to a constellation.
I never hear them complaining
only gently sparkling.

Are we to reverse down a dark alley
not knowing where we are going.
Do we wish to offer a clenched fist
or are we to open our hand and heart.
Have we become so inwardly looking
that we switch of our lights close our
eyes as a room full of blind nations
continue to fight.

Are we to be influenced by papers
that serendipitously cloud the difference
between EU immigrants and Syrian refugee's.
As Rupert Murdoch and corperate power
divides and conquers.
Trillions gather of shore sit on the world
like a giant cancer and all we do is fight
with each other.
As they in circle us with their power we become
the entertainment at their coliseum.
Or do we pour love within the gaps becoming all
so much closer bringing back all our power.

Are we to live in a shrinking world where
other people's problems do not matter.
Is it time to close our eyes or time to look
in the mirror.
Out out out keep the bad guys out
as though our hands were clean
that we had never done anything wrong.
Are we we to cling to a penny pinching surface
or delve into the depths of our character looking for
a deeper treasure that truly matters.

Will not the true values of our heart not proper
when connected more deeply on the inside
and out.
By clinging to a superficial sovereignty we may
find ourselves also clinging to a wobbly mast.
As our island drifts of into a rough sea we maybe
to involved with surviving that we forget
who we truly are.

Nobody no longer contains the desire for unrefinity
The urge to tap into the void smacks of divinity
What exists in its place in the flesh market place
Are bartering skill sets and chocoalte puddings
When confronted by an invisible elephant
The people, in consensus, turn away
This happens within the day to day
The elephants march on, heedless vessels
Turbans floating downstreat, mainstream.
****** babble replaces conversation
Emblamatic gestures infiltrate the realm of the symbolic
The priests have all taken off their underwear
And the women are putting their brasiers
Back onto their chests, underneath their shirts
Blouses are burnt.
Toast is burnt.
Jams are being made by machines, horses do have dreams
Jelly and ice cream make delicate farts
Ghosts live in pipes and buy and sell art
People whose names are Horace or Rupert
Have been decommisioned
And the stories are locked in pie dishes
And the tale remains the same.
Remember, that future archeologists will exist.
Excavating sites will bring us all
To the kingdom of devon
In the beautiful future of documented tales
Which we are building for
Inside the spaceships.
When ponies are invalid and germs become common currency
Know that it will be time to fly your pillow cases as flags

He is a fine painting
The delicate hand of Nordic genetics
painted on a symmetrical face
His face, although youthful, gives away a spiritual antiquity
His mind is filled with sand carrying gales
from the great dunes of knowledge facing the ever-wise ocean eternally. churning up new grains of sand from her deep bed

The windy world of well-stoked book shelves pass through his mind and turn into lukewarm water for those with thirst to drink

He zips through the world on a flying fox
The line tightly and stably fixed to an inbound destination
Draining girls like cigarettes, each one long and slender providing a fix and  moment of satisfaction
His heart radiates to his hands and he uses them as noble puppets, even missing two digits

He crusades into the world with a sword of passion and a shield of God's fortune
Tightening up the loose screws in the worlds clock
To keep it ticking for everyone at gaze at

He fights, he wins, he will be remembered long after his atoms cut themselves into dust

He receives a passionate kiss from nature filling his soul with passion

Until he finds his white bowl, table cloth, soup with a dessert-spoon-keychain

Off to 'The Orchard' for afternoon tea
Beautiful and quaint, filled with history

Rupert Brooke, the poet, started the trend
Taking tea in the garden 'til the days end

Virginia Woolf, a writer, with a troubled mind
Enjoyed the bonds of friendship with a group so kind

It goes as far back as the year 1897
Cambridge students found a pocket of heaven

Blossoming fruit trees arranged in rows
Scattered seating, cushions and colourful throws

Crumbling moist Scones with jam and cream
Carrot Cake and Cordial an Elderberry dream

Horses in the distance and cows by your side
Cool Emerald grass where the insects hide

A wander by the river hand in hand
The most peaceful day that ever was planned






I visited The Orchard yesterday, a most gorgeous place.  I hope this poem gives you a picture of this idyllic little corner of England x

Rupert McColl can do it all
If the object is to sell beer
But if you want it told like it is
Then I guess that's why I'm here


Cause I can remember the old Vickie Bridge
The Fishboard and The Palace
It was the Manhattan I think, where I had my first drink
And for that I'll bear them no malice


On a hot summers day, when we wanted to play
We'd all head to Davies Park Pool
If u hadn't the fare or just for a dare
The river was clean and cool


We played Cricket in the street, in our ***** bare feet
That's if we had a ball
And when the cars come past, they'd give us a blast
But we didn't say much at all


On the way home from school we'd all play the fool
That was always a habit
And if u could see some good fruit on a tree
You'd shinny right up there and grab it


Yes Brisbane back then was a wonderful place
But naïve like a novice, just learning
And I suppose I should see its just my reverie
And the days of my youth that I'm yearning


REDMAN

You are very drunk,
have you got that right myfriend.

captured in the psych ward ——  a strange word——— something to do with bludger



today ron has his hands full when a person came after tying an 11 year old boy to the toilet

and he started to get these weird voices in his head, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it,

you see his youth wasn’t bad, there was a bit of teasing but his parents think the teasing could’ve

been the reason why he did the crime, you see his brother said, be a oh ledger, which made no

fucken sense, and it could be a strange name because he didn’t want his sibling to be labelled a

pheadphile, and ron was talking to him asking him, why did you attack that child and he said

because i wanted him to suffer for what my school mates were doing to me, you see my school mates

are calling me a ole ledger, which makes no sense, and ron said, maybe they are calling you that, because

they feel guilty calling you a phedaphile, or they prefer to not call a mate a phedaphile, and then ron said

or maybe they are saying young bludger or a dole bludger because you look lazy to me, and then the man got

up and said, i am a bit of a bludger, but i am not a dole bludger, i want to work, but most of the jobs i like to do

are jobs that this crime would stop me from doing, and charlie chaplin came up to the man and said, charlie’s my name

what is yours and he said, kidnapper bill, you see i kidnapped a kid named bill, and now i am in here, being called

a oh ludger, and charlie said, they are calling you what, and he said a oh ludger, you see i was getting teased all my life

and i took out revenge on them by destroying the life of a litte kid, and ron said, do you think you should tell very many people

because charlie will tell and it could make your time in here uncomfortable and he said, i can handle it, and he said, like when

i grabbed that kid, i felt good, i was just about to make the past leave my mind, because those teasers were horrible to me

and then ron said ok they called you a oh ludger, which makes no sense, why the devil was that word in your head because

it is not a word in the english language, and then the child molestor said, my name is gordon mcllumsy, and i am 23 years old

and i have been getting teased all my life, and my brother peter mclumsy is calling me a oh ludger, because he wanted to

keep it from our father that he thought i was a pheadphile, i don’t believe in having *** with a kid, i just tied him up and threaten him

if he tells the cops, well obviously he did, and he’ll pay for it, and pete, my brother said, your a oh ludger, and since that day my mind

was so messed up, i thought he was treating me like a family person, or a dole bludger or a young bludger, but now you guys have

arrested me, the voice has stopped but pete came the other day, and i heard the words oh ludger come out of his mouth

and i hear those words 25 times in one day, i am trying to relax in here but the voice of my brother says you are a oh ludger, oh ludger

and i told him, yeah a dole bludger or a young bludger or maybe even a sports watcher, because gordon was watching the sport when

that voice became clearer, and he had hallucinations of his mates at school saying, your getting teased gordon, we tried to push you over

the edge and now you are getting teased and ron said ok, and when these kids teased you, what did they say, and gordon said, they went yeah mate

to me every time i did family stuff, like play footy or cricket, or even when we played boardgames, and gordon hated that, screaming out

LEAVE ME THE **** ALONE, I AM A FAMILY PERSON, and this happened every day for gordon, and most of the time it wasn’t just yeah mate

sometimes, bullies would pick on him, by jabbing pocket knives into his neck or gut, or jabbing ball point pens onto his ***** and gordon said

LEAVE ME THE **** ALONE, I AM A FAMILY PERSON, and the head bully of the school locked gordon in the school store room, saying

you will be here overnight, **** and gordon wanted to get out, and eventually a teacher let him go, and then gordon told rob, i wanted revenge

on these bullies, and this kid got in my way, and since that day, i heard the voices, oh ludger coming out of my brother and mates, and i thought

this meant nothing, and gordon still thought they meant dole kludgier, sports watcher or young bludger, but gordon thought pete was a real little

smart alek and needed to be taught a very big lesson, because gordon isn’t really a pheadaphile, he was just bullied around at school by stupid

jealous school kids and ron thought straight away that gordon needs medication to calm his mind, so he chose 300 mils largactil at night and

200 mills serenace in the morning, and ron thought with talk therapy, this should work, so he gave him his first dose of serenade, and he was still

hearing the words oh ludger, which could’ve meant sports watcher or dole bludger or young bludger or even a special name so pete and gordon’s parents

don’t find out that pete was treating gordon like a family person, and gordon was walking around yelling with words saying, i am not a pheadaphile, please

stop treating me like a phedaphile and gordon yelled at anyone who looked at him when they watched the news which made ron come out and try

and settle him down, gordon said, stop treating me like a little kid, I AM A RUN OF THE MILL, HEAVY DUTY MAN, dudes, and then gordon goes to his room

and then hears the words oh ludger, don’t be a yeah mate yeah kid, gordon, be a oh ludger, which means nothing to gordon and gordon yelled out

LEAVE ME ALONE YA ****, I AM NOT A OH LUDGER, i could be a dole bludger or a sports watcher, or a young bludger, but i am not a phedaphile

that kid had it f..n coming and i don’t deserve being captured in ron’s psych ward, being shoved on any medications, i want the best, f..n rupert and

then the order forms came out for lunch and dinner and gordon ordered his meals and went to his room yelling at his voices calling him a oh ludger

and gordon said, LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE, then ron, who was terribly worried about gordon gave him 2 values and said just relax because you

are causing people to complain about you, and the ****** sent gordon off to sleep till his family, including pete came to visit him and gordon told his parents

to stay, but pete had to go, because, he can hear oh ludger coming from his teasing voice which forced me to being a kidnapper, dudes and ron thought

that maybe his parents need to understand what medication gordon is on and that he hears voices of pete calling him a oh ludger which could be a dole bludger

or a sportswatcher or a young bludger or a fancy way that pete says he is a pheadaphile, to make make you feel great, and we put gordon on largactil and

serenace to control his urges to abduct children, apparently he was taking revenge on kids at his school and then gordon spent 2 hours with his parents

and his parents left, and it was almost dinner time and gordon went out to the dinner table and at dinner time, gordon got what he ordered, fish and chips

and vegetables with a orange juice and a chocolate mousse and after dinner ron gave gordon his largactil and gordon went to his room, missed supper

because he was having a big sleep, where he awoke at 5 am, and he went out to the dining room to wait for 2 hours for breakfast and medications, but

he told the nurses he had a dream about being burnt at a stake, because he remembered being treated like an old witch when he was 13 and when ron

came after his lovely time at home with pizza and sleeping on the couch, turned up at the hdu to give the patients the morning medications and ron

asked gordon, are you still hearing old ludger and gordon said, yeah, i f..n am and i started by thinking they were treating me like a sports watcher as

i was watching the tennis last night, but i fell asleep, and gordon still doesn’t understand what old ludger actually meant and then lunch came with

gordon yelling at his voices so loudly and then afternoon tea, with gordon having 3 pieces of the cake and then dinner came, and gordon started hearing

voices in ron and the nurses, and that started driving him completely nuts, and gordon told ron, and ron decided to give him more serenace and start

by trialling eppelim on him to be taken at lunch time to reduce the voices he hears and then dinner came and gordon ate his dinner and then ron brought

around the nightly medications and then ron clocked off and bought lunch at his favourite cafe and went home and watched greys anatomy and fell asleep

on the couch, while gordon was still bothered by the word old ludger, but it was calming slowly but surely.

And suddenly I realized that all of this,
The gun, the bombs, the revolution
Has got something to do
With a girl named Marla Singer.

Cornelius, Rupert, Travis, Tyler Durden
Who could really tell how many are we in a single body?
Mind creating multiple personas, good or bad
Or both could mean the same thing,
A label, a name as it is,
Could mean something or nothing

And there could always be a Tyler Durden
The Bold and Free, The Enlightened one

We see ourselves as we’d like to be
Good or Bad? Again, we decide what is right
Founder of our own fellowship
For our own Project Mayhem
For a girl named Marla Singer..
What again is a Project Mayhem?

**All I know is…
First and Second Rule:
You do not ask questions about PROJECT MAYHEM.

Why dost thou build the hall, Son of the winged days? Thou lookest
    from thy tower to-day: yet a few years, and the blast of the desart
    comes: it howls in thy empty court.—Ossian.

I

Through thy battlements, Newstead, the hollow winds whistle:
  Thou, the hall of my Fathers, art gone to decay;
In thy once smiling garden, the hemlock and thistle
  Have choak’d up the rose, which late bloom’d in the way.


II

Of the mail-cover’d Barons, who, proudly, to battle,
  Led their vassals from Europe to Palestine’s plain,
The escutcheon and shield, which with ev’ry blast rattle,
  Are the only sad vestiges now that remain.


III

No more doth old Robert, with harp-stringing numbers,
  Raise a flame, in the breast, for the war-laurell’d wreath;
Near Askalon’s towers, John of Horistan slumbers,
  Unnerv’d is the hand of his minstrel, by death.


IV

Paul and Hubert too sleep in the valley of Cressy;
  For the safety of Edward and England they fell:
My Fathers! the tears of your country redress ye:
  How you fought! how you died! still her annals can tell.


V

On Marston, with Rupert, ‘gainst traitors contending,
  Four brothers enrich’d, with their blood, the bleak field;
For the rights of a monarch their country defending,
  Till death their attachment to royalty seal’d.


VI

Shades of heroes, farewell! your descendant departing
  From the seat of his ancestors, bids you adieu!
Abroad, or at home, your remembrance imparting
  New courage, he’ll think upon glory and you.


VII

Though a tear dim his eye at this sad separation,
  ’Tis nature, not fear, that excites his regret;
Far distant he goes, with the same emulation,
  The fame of his Fathers he ne’er can forget.


VIII

That fame, and that memory, still will he cherish;
  He vows that he ne’er will disgrace your renown:
Like you will he live, or like you will he perish;
  When decay’d, may he mingle his dust with your own!

It's time
Is what my jazz teacher yelled over Rupert Holmes singing yes I like pina coladas
and as I stretched my ligaments trying to mold my body into a new shape
in the back of my mind I asked "Am I ready?"

because

I don't feel ready.
I like it here, where I'm safe
no choices
no thoughts
no judgments
no fear
but no matter how numerous the mistakes
I must remember
there's only so many excuses a person can make

so no more excuses

It's time
to contribute to the chaos,
scream at the stars for every false promise,
sing for those who don't have a voice,
be wise when dealing with precarious choice,
grin at the world and give it my faith,
exist as I am,
begin in this breath anew,
free myself from my own expectations,
cherish the individual and the crowd; for they each have worth,
fail and enjoy every moment of it,
laugh because this is it and it is I.

get rid of the plans

I've been tired for too long,
reluctant,
unsure.

It's time
for an existence centered around love
It's time
to accept this life as it is: uniquely mine

I refuse to lose myself again
in the drifting fog that leaves me guessing at what shape I am

It's time
to live.

It was only a tiny village then
Away from the thoroughfare,
Had existed since I don’t know when
With a grassy village square,
There were only seven ancient cars
In the narrow village streets,
And none of them travelled very far
For the shop stocked milk, and treats.

It hadn’t seen much of progress since
The days of old King John,
Who’d lost his jewels in The Wash, by Mintz
Near the town of Oberon,
The villagers there were set in ways
That caused nobody harm,
But when Lars came from Oberon
There was cause to feel alarm.

For Lars was the local planner for
The town of Oberon,
He’d dragged it kicking and screaming
Into the century just gone,
He’d widened streets, and cancelled Meets
In the old stone Mason’s Hall,
By bulldozing their building, leaving
Folk with a low stone wall.

He’d passed it all with an ordinance
That had given him total power,
The council caved to his arrogance,
All that he did was glower,
He put street lights on the corners, and
He acted like a prince,
And when he was done with Oberon
He set his sights on Mintz.

He drove on down to their village square
And he said it wouldn’t do,
He’d turn the square to a thoroughfare
So the cars could drive right through,
He didn’t care when the people there
Said ‘Leave our square alone!’
He said, ‘I’m passing an ordinance,
So you might as well go home.’

The local hall was agog that night
There’d never been such a crowd,
The villagers all were up in arms,
‘This fool shouldn’t be allowed!’
‘This calls for a special meeting,’ said
The spokesman, Rupert Bragg,
‘We’ll have to call on the village witch,
The widow, Nancy Stag!’

They all poured out of the village hall
And they went to see the witch,
Who was busily mixing potions in
A cauldron and a dish,
‘You’ll not be needing my magic,’ said
Old Nancy, with a smile,
‘If you all agree with my plan, you’ll see,
That Lars will run a mile.’

She asked the women to stay behind
While the men went on their way,
‘I mean the ones over seventy,
The rest can go or stay,’
They huddled up with the village witch
And applauded Nancy’s plan,
‘We’ll send him scuttling off from Mintz,
You’ll see, he’s only a man!’

When Lars came down in his private car
They met him in the square,
Holding banners and placards, but
That’s not what made him stare,
‘You’d better get back to Oberon
Or we’ll march there, for our rights,’
He turned, and hurriedly left the square,
They all were dressed in tights!’

David Lewis Paget

Following the bloodstains home,
we tread the land with bristled soles,
to cleanse the souls of the wide-eyed youth,
spectacular fireworks to alter the truth,
tar the land, and pepper the streets,
concrete the corner where strangers meet,
the placebo joy of the modern life,
left vacant in the money-man's wake,
a cardboard lot left to decay,
oh, this is my Britain of today.

The newsrooms are clinical,
policies in place to reduce moral outrage,
to reduce it to a hysterical mess,
a cartoon-disaster of life's distress,
so the public in fear, exist but not live,
to fight the recession; you must give, give, give,
give, your life to your freedom
to live without choice,
you can sign a slip,
to mimic a voice
and to ensure the vow of regular pay,
oh, this is my Britain of today.

A history of salvation,
we lend heroes to established truth,
we parade on corners in our concrete joy,
rejoice in the miracle of the new royal boy,
who shall live in fat, and live in health,
sacred tender to the country's wealth,
of empire and power of totalities,
of stone-walled cities,
and Northern breeze,
the Jack tattooed on imperial flags,
oh, this is my Britain of today.

A stream of entertainment,
how it pounds the floor in seamless sound,
how it drizzles the walls in a trophy glitz,
a hypnotic and false, synthetic blitz,
of caffeine veins, and digital sea,
of attention-span in atrophy.
Wait not on thoughts, instead mind-chatter,
you say “don't talk on dark topic,
and keep depth away!”
oh, this is my Britain of today.

Following the apathy home,
I tread the land in heavy-worn soles,
to cleanse my soul of restricted air,
to dream of travel, to fortunes fair,
but in this bliss of a greener grass;
it is for Britain I hold communal mass.
For each Blair, I know, is a Rupert Brooke,
each levelled city, there's Wilfred's book,
or some Dickensian dream of caricatured past,
where only tyranny is built to last,
for each liberty taken, is Huxley's piece,
is Lessing's thoughts and Shelley's release,
and the meander of Avon through grey rain,
adds desperate poetry for the lives still slain,
so we can live in peace, and in sugared tea,
with red wine lips on the periphery;
in those day's hard living,
in those days' worth spent,
with only a book
and blood descent,
the community dances in the advent of May,
oh, this is my Britain of yesterday.

I    go        out          for       coffee
                    with            my                        be­st                            
                                fr­iend        every
                                 evening
                         And see the thorns come out of
                    I  people In ways I wouldn't expect.
              D    One woman moves away from us. One
        R         boy calls her a terrorist. One man threate
    I           ns to have her deported Even though she w
N           as born in New Jersey.    America the free....?
K         I drink coffee with my parents in the morning, My
C          Dad's daily dose of poisons called  Fox and Friends
O     Hannity  The O'reilly Factor  Cause my ears to bleed.
    F   They say that while not all Muslims are terrorists All ter
      F   rorists are Muslim.    They use religion as a scapegoat
          E  What they don't know isThese radicals do the exact
             E same thing. I drink coffee by myself in the afterno
                 on. Somewhere, during that time Personality Ru
                  pert Murdoch blames all Muslims for terrorism.
                   He says they all must take responsibility for t
                     his "cancer". Then must I, as a Christian, tak
                      e responsibility for the KKK?  Must I, as a
                         member of your religion, Rupert, take
                           responsibility for your ignorance?  I
                             stand in solidarity with these Mus
                              lims who would never rip a hair
                                off my head or a bone from m
                                  y body.  We can do without
                                    people like you, who mak
                                        my coffee taste bitter.

Well Benny just bought some F-35's,
so he can hit Iran with no regrets.
He knows that Rupert will help him
and FOX will make sure the truth is supressed.

B-b-b-Benny and the Jets.

When Iran hits back then they'll spin the facts,
say the attack was unprovoked.
Benny thinks he's so slick,
but he's making mistakes
he might be the next one to get smoked.

B-b-b-Benny and the Jets.

He's got 400 Nukes,
chemical weapons too,
but you won't read that in a magazine, no, no.

B-b-b-Benny and the Jets.