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Yenson Jul 2019
That Cat is so slick
man! that dude's as slick as a prototype Maclaren's F1
In type, there's just no match around
academicals - he comes A Type
sound as sound can be, tungsten steel the frame
cool as dew with va va vroom to make toes curl
that Cat is just so slick

hey up, here come De Demoralization Mob
de  Tonton Makout of mama Doc Macafethievies
that doyen of house-burglars and her mob de Anarchy
criminal gangstalkers and the dime-a-penny mob
tasked with the job of pulling down a Colossus unstained

That Cat is just so slick
in dazzling casual style arrayed
with wit and wisdom expressed with panache
in any work or labour always tops the league outright
the quickest of mind, the sharpest of tools, he's just that smart
yet as laid back as the sweetest wine, yet as strong as Balkan *****
that Cat is so slick

Hey up! see the tonton Makout, brainless zombies droning
full of crap in mindless quest twisting in revolting mire
attack-dogs with rotten teeth, snapping and snarling in rabid throe
the going-nowheres of today venting frustrating and eating cancers
them dregs of the simpletons brigade and cannon fodder society

That cat is just so slick
a fine specimen of the real man in a real place
self-assure and vapoured in quiet confidence that's proven
the sensibility of sages, the cheeky humour of designers lauded
a masterpiece of a lover, a renowned craftsman of romanticism
oh to sing like a nightingale and write like he made the language
he cruises in effortless grace like you sail smoothly on the high seas
wow that Cat is exceptionally sleek

Hey up! here trudges the tonton Makout of Ghostville
verbose empties drunk on nonsense ales spewing doom and doom
two score years of anodyne dirges, a thousand dingos doing tangos
eating ****, spewing crap, paid a penny for fermenting forcasts
ding-bats doing the ding **** without any ding-dongs to show
miseries of their inadequacies projected in abject forms and style

That Cat is just so so slick
the host with the most, the Legend that make them feel unworthy
the thinking womans' dream, the *****' dearest wish, the man good
titled and honorable, straight as a dime, sincere, caring, he's just all
the sane mothers will see the son they wished they had
tonton Makouts sees that which they can never be, no matter what
They are never play in that League, all they want is to break a leg
jealousy and envy haunts them in radiated fumes, they choke
that Cat is just so slick and cool and he's the real Deal.....
YOUR TURN MUGGINGS .......Wonder if the tonton Makouts can write poetry, Yes they can, they just hide their identities and create loads of false tags and write zombie poetry. Hahaha...hahaha...hahaha
Aridea P Oct 2011
Jakarta, 22 Mei 2008


Ku tuliskan apa yang ku rasakan
Jantungku berdebar kencang
Nadiku bergetar kuat
Darah ku mengalir deras
Ku gambarkan apa yang kurasakan
Aku teriak keras
Aku mengacak semua
Aku menangis kencang
Ragaku tegang
Mataku kantuk
Suasana seram
Begitu malam gelap
Larut sudah ku tonton
Cerita hantu bertaruh nyawa
Ya, meski hanya sebuah cerita
Namun ini karya mereka
Yang harus dihargai
Ada pun senang melihatnya
Hebert Logerie Dec 2024
Papa Nowèl te pè pase sou Chanmas
Nan lari Pòtoprens. Bal tap tire an mas
Tout kote. Anpil moun sere anba kabann
Teroris yo kwè chyen nan yon move savann
Yo tout kote ak gwo zam ke yo pa fabrike an Ayiti
Bandi yo ap touye e terorize tout moun
Mèm vye chat ak rat kap kouri nan ravinn
Bagay yo grav e danjere nan peyi Dayiti
Tonton Nowèl te pè se sak fè kel pat pase
Ane sila. Pèsonn moun pa konn kilè ke
Bagay sa, dezòd, krim, kanaj sa yo ap chanje
Fini. Pate gen mès minwi, tout pòtt legliz te fèmen
Bandi ak sapat yo gen gwo zam ki trè chè
Ke tonton blan yo bayo kòm kado Nwèl
Pou pèp la ka al kreve pi fon nan lanfè
Sak pi rèd djab sal ak vye san pwèl
Pè al nan simetyè pou al leve moun ke
Yo te touye. Se chyen manje chyen
Se chat manje chat. Se chyen manje rat
Moun antrave nan peyi sila. Se chat
Manje rat. Se chyen manje rat ak chat
Sa se laraj. Moun pa janm te konn tande
Vye istwa sa yo.  Kilè ke bagay sa ap fini, chanje
Kilè ke kolon oligaka, loksidan e sanzave
Sa yo ap kite ti pèp la an repo e kilè
Ke ti pèp la ap revolte, kilè, fout kilè
Dyaspora a fatige pèdi lajan ak propriete
Nan peyi sa. Kilè ke tout teroris sa yo
Ap disparèt. Map fout rele anmwey. Yo
You, map pale ak ou. I’m talking to you
Map fout pale ak ou, wi ak ou
Kokorat, zwazo mechan, ipokrit, sanzave
Pa fout pale de revolisyon. Sispann reve
Ouvri je nou. Wi map pale ak ou tou
Pè Nowèl te pè, oken malere e ti moun
Pat resevwa oken kado sèl move moun
Kap touye e terorize pèp la tap fete. Lapolis
Lame ak nèg Loni yo, se kòm si ke yo paka fè plis
Se mwens ke yo fè sèlman. Nèg CPT yo touche
Gwo lajan, sak nan pouvwa resevwa anpil lajan
Nèg yo ap defann pòch, yo pap defann Patri
Yo pap pwoteje pèp, yo pap defann Ayiti
Ikrèn resevwa gwo kado, gwo zetrenn
Ayiti resevwa  gwo anbago, wi nou konprann
Bandi, teroris, gangstè, loksidan ak olygaka ap vale tèren
Gwoup kriminèl yo ap mennen
Ti Jezi pat ale an Ayiti, li te pè. Papa Nwèl pat pase
Li te pè natirèlman. An nou panse, reflechi anpil jisko printan.

P.S. This poem is dedicated to all who are suffering in Haiti.
Pèp Ayisyen ak dyaspora a bouke pran imilasyion. Aba la mizè, insekirite
koripsyion, krim, injistis, inpinite, diskriminasyon, e inegalite.
See translation of ‘Santa Claus Was Afraid to Pass Through Port-au-Prince, Haiti’.
Copyright © Desanm 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tout dwa rezève
Hébert Logerie se otè plizyè koleksyon powèm.
Ken Pepiton May 2019
Samesame, ripple, ripple, splash

against
the wall.
Still,

some way of thinking, some
idea
still doesn't like a wall, a

boundary, a barrier, a pallisade of
implausibility
beyond which

we are.
For a while,
what can we do? Live, right?
Live. Live right.
Right.
That idea, samesame, yours or your's
right's right, like

equal's equal

or,
better may be...
beauty is beauty, right, in the eye

of the be
holder, the holding being

holding steady, nuetrial calm

equatorial doldrums

art is bound to save the world,
it is something to do when there is nothing to do.

Angels embodied by men as men might imagine
a message bearer or
a christopher

jar of an ointment. Dr. Ruth's **** for Rubes.

Doktor doktor tell me tales, riddles only magi know

emmett fox--- chong says the audience will luv,
joel s. goldsmith--- the Bible is the truth, en code.
Okeh.

Ever learning
Coming never to the fullness of the godhead ******,

y'know? No lie is any part of truth, but parts of many lies are true.

You see that right, common sensed by the we we agree to be
ad hoc 'n'all.

Vectoring from our being modeled on Vetruvius's
form for man in harmony with

ever lasting things, measurable means transmute  metaphoric gold.
Bestness.
Per fectual in effect, per se, y'know, y'know, magic,

and not knowing any ever things is not samesame as
not knowing now things that are ever things.

Pay attention.
Mean is never meant to be mean like "worthless" or "hateful"
"naughty" is "as nothing", literally, virtually, actually, really.

naughty children made mean, on the bell,

C students can elect a presider over a we, the people, without me in it.
I float in the shallow calculus edge area of a plain
surficial bubble, after the wave
flushes the sand casting

a grain of meaning in a nue light...

Quant, quant, quant
and half a quant

convert that to horsepower or
candle power or

BTUs British Thermal Units.
The empire is not weaker now, the ice is melting,
the crushed polar surface is feeling free
flowing current,
a sixth gyre, as seen from a far.

------- Go, set a watchman-----

Find the old sergeants, where have they all gone?
Gone to seed,
rotted under clods.

Old broken guardians, unwilling to live under the lie of the law.
Opposistion to tyranny is obediance to

the highest reason you answer to.
By any other name, samesame, good has al
ways won. Ought causes naught to flee.
---
Me, flee? NO. I'm the great, great grandson of the
white trash, overseer seen empiratical,
Tonton boyz drum drum drum

Old rastifarianish lookin's guy, old
man, wombless hermit holy
man, set aside for
later

by faith.
Made set aside,
Pre-served in right use of spice and salt and fire and greasy savory
meat smoke,

mouth waterin', finger lickin' good
greasy green goblin guts.

Dandelion soup. The diary entry was,
"We had wild greens for supper." That being,

apparently all a tired, hungry fifteen year old girl considered
recording for the family chronicle of the journey,
Texas to Arizona, 1917,

while staring at more stars than any naked human eye
can see in twenty nineteen,

light is thicker now, around the inner edges of life's bubble
we abide in.

---- what if learning is the work?
Then, now we learn

ever, then we learn yon
yonder we find

godliness as defined by men who found no better word.

are there words better able to
hold being
really?
Acting asif whats were ours

chaching I ching's a thing
AI see
co rect me, in a lefthand way.
Make me right, in an underhanded way.

Listening prayer,
cast all your care, upon...

what if, per se, there
we planned to keep a secret sacred,
set a part,
a
rite a role. play an otherwise magician's apprentice enspeliered

up against the wall.
No light, no flight, no fight.

Birds eat my fruit and s
hit my seeds,

I am the vine growing up the wall
intentionally espelliered, planted to scale the wall
bhering fruit
full time

Kali fornia ifity

de-if now. Give it y'best ef
fect com
fort ify the lie "why is an unreasonable quest."

Try,

effectual, fervent prayer of a right using man, eh?

Pascal, m'man, layomoneydown!
While watching Tommy Chong on Rogan
Yenson Aug 2019
If after a certain age
you cannot be your own counsel
forget everything and go become a Socialist
they do a good line in regurgitating Bullshite

With mixed up minds
and ideology of hate and envy
Devils Advocates on temporary release from the madhouses
they say politics is spin and opposing sanity is power

The boring tonton Macoute
fantasists and deluded failures in hidden affrays
no rhyme or logic, the demagogues of the brainless and losers
paranoid semi-illiterates pontificating on their superiors affairs

What the blind butler saw meets what life below stairs reakons
as they drain the remaining drops of champagne flutes they ferry
in silver trays back to the scullery
and in that familiar Valhalla, they are gods who rule the world
Hebert Logerie Dec 2024
Papa Noël was afraid to pass through on Christmas Day
In the streets of Port-au-Prince. Bullets were being fired in droves
Sporadically, haphazardly. Many people were hiding under beds
Naughty terrorists are like dogs, hyenas in vile forests or deadly wilderness
They are everywhere with big machine guns which are not made in Haiti
The lawless bandits or God-awful devils are killing and terrorizing everyone
Even old cats and ***** rats that are running in the ravines
Things are very serious, extremely dangerous and awfully bad in Haiti
This year, Uncle Noël was scared, very afraid that's why he failed to visit
And to pass through the tiny streets of Haiti. Nobody knows when
These ugly and unusual things, chaos, crimes, nightmare will change or end
There were no holy midnight masses; all the church doors were shut, closed
The bandits who wear filthy sandals carry very expensive and modern weapons
That their white uncles and ***** oligarchs gave them as Christmas gifts
So that they can drive more innocent civilians deeper into the fires of Hell
It is very fascinating to notice that the werewolves, the infamous Loups Garous
Were also afraid to go to the cemeteries to unearth their innocent victims
In Haiti, formerly Pearl of the West Indies, It's dogs eating dogs
It's cats eating cats. It's dogs eating rats
People are stuck in this once paradise, Pearl of the Antilles
Which is presently Hell on Earth and ****** dungeons for so many
It's cats eating rats. It's dogs eating rats and cats
This is a despicable madness. Frankenstein would have been happy there
People have never experienced such ugly mess before. When will this change
When will this end? When will the oligarchic, western and greedy settlers
Leave the peaceful and resilient people of Haiti alone? And when, when
When will the brave people revolt? When, **** it, will the Diaspora
Unite to fight and defend Haiti? Haitians are tired of losing lives, money
Territories and properties in Haiti. When will all these unruly terrorists
Disappear, vanish on the face of the Universe. I'm shouting angrily
You, **** it, I'm talking to you. I'm freaking talking to you
I'm ******* talking to you, yes, yes, yes to you, violent criminals
Cockroaches, ungodly birds, wicked hypocrites and ignorant fools
Stop talking about revolution. Use common sense. Stop dreaming
Open your eyes. Yes, for in the name of Yahweh, I'm talking to you too
Santa Claus, Père Noël, Tonton Nowèl was afraid. No poor and little people
Received no gifts, nothing, zero, nitch, only the greedy perpetrators
Who **** and terrorize the citizens, were celebrating. The weak Police, the feeble
Army and the helpless UN vacationers can't do more; they can simply do less
We know that Haiti is not Ukraine, yet Haiti needs help. Haitians are desperate
The nefarious CPT presidents make big moollah, big dough, big gourds, big bucks
And big money, the infamous ones who are in power, receive a lot of money
These traitors are defending their pockets, not the homeland
They won't protect the innocent people, they won't defend Haiti
The bandits, terrorists, hypocrites and greedy oligarchs are in command
Criminal groups are scattered ubiquitously in the corridors, all over, everywhere
Little Jesus didn't go to Haiti, he was scared too. Santa Claus didn't come
He was scared naturally. Let's think, think deep, resist and dream until spring.

P.S. This poem is dedicated to all who are suffering in Haiti.
The Haitian people and the Diaspora are tired of being humiliated. Down with misery,
Insecurity, corruption, crime, injustice, impunity, discrimination, and inequality.
This is a translation of ‘Pè Nowèl Te Pè Pase Nan Pòtoprens, Ayiti’.

Copyright © December 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Papá Noel tenía miedo de pasar el día de Navidad
En las calles de Puerto Príncipe. Las balas se disparaban en masa
Esporádicamente, al azar. Mucha gente se escondía debajo de las camas
Los terroristas traviesos son como perros, hienas en bosques viles o desiertos mortales
Están por todas partes con grandes ametralladoras que no se fabrican en Haití
Los bandidos sin ley o demonios espantosos están matando y aterrorizando a todos
Incluso gatos viejos y ratas sucias que corren por los barrancos
Las cosas son muy serias, extremadamente peligrosas y terriblemente malas en Haití
Este año, el tío Noel tenía miedo, mucho miedo, por eso no visitó
Y no pasó por las pequeñas calles de Haití. Nadie sabe cuándo
Estas cosas feas e inusuales, el caos, los crímenes, la pesadilla cambiarán o terminarán
No hubo misas de medianoche; Todas las puertas de la iglesia estaban cerradas, cerradas
Los bandidos que calzan sandalias sucias llevan armas muy caras y modernas
Que sus tíos occidentales blancos y oligarcas sucios les dieron como regalos de Navidad
Para que puedan empujar a más civiles inocentes más profundamente en las llamas del Infierno
Es muy fascinante notar que los hombres lobos, los infames Loups Garous
También tenían miedo de ir a los cementerios para desenterrar a sus víctimas inocentes
En Haití, antiguamente la Perla de las Indias Occidentales, son perros que comen perros
Son gatos que comen gatos. Son perros que comen ratas
La gente está atrapada en este otrora paraíso, la Perla de las Antillas
Que ahora es el Infierno en la Tierra y mazmorras sangrientas para tantos
Son gatos que comen ratas. Son perros que comen ratas y gatos
Esta es una locura despreciable. Frankenstein habría sido feliz allí
La gente nunca antes había experimentado un desastre tan feo. ¿Cuándo cambiará esto?
¿Cuándo terminará esto? ¿Cuándo los colonos oligárquicos, occidentales y codiciosos
Dejarán en paz al pacífico y resistente pueblo de Haití? ¿Y cuándo, cuándo?
¿Cuándo se rebelará el valiente pueblo? ¿Cuándo, maldita sea, la diáspora
Se unirá para luchar y defender a Haití? Los Haitianos están cansados de perder vidas, dinero
Territorios y propiedades en Haití. ¿Cuándo desaparecerán de la faz del Universo
Todos estos terroristas rebeldes? Estoy gritando furioso
Maldita sea, te estoy hablando a ti. Te estoy hablando a ti, maldita sea
Te estoy hablando a ti, sí, sí, sí a ti, criminales violentos
Cucarachas, pájaros impíos, hipócritas malvados y tontos ignorantes
Deja de hablar de revolución. Usa el sentido común. Deja de soñar
Abre los ojos. Sí, porque en nombre de Iahvé, te estoy hablando a ti también
Papá Noel, Père Noël, Tonton Nowèl tenía miedo. No hay pobres ni gente pequeña
No recibieron regalos, nada, cero, chivatos, sólo los sórdidos perpetradores
Que matan y aterrorizan a los ciudadanos, estaban de fiesta. La débil Policía
El ejército y los indefensos vacacionistas de la ONU no pueden hacer más
Simplemente pueden hacer menos. Sabemos que Haití no es Ucrania
Pero Haití necesita ayuda. Los Haitianos están desesperados, los nefastos presidentes
Del CPT ganan mucho dinero, mucho dinero, mucho dinero, mucho dinero
Y mucho dinero, los infames que están en el poder, reciben mucho dinero
Estos traidores están defendiendo sus bolsillos, no la patria
No protegerán a la gente inocente, no defenderán a Haití
Los bandidos, terroristas, hipócritas y oligarcas codiciosos están al mando
Los grupos criminales están dispersos ubicuamente en los pasillos, por todas partes
El pequeño Jesús no fue a Haití, él también tenía miedo. Santa Claus no vino
Tenía miedo naturalmente. Pensemos, pensemos profundamente
Resistamos y soñemos hasta la primavera.

P.D. Este poema está dedicado a todos los que sufren en Haití.
El pueblo haitiano y la diáspora están cansados de ser humillados. Abajo la miseria,
La inseguridad, la corrupción, el crimen, la injusticia, la impunidad, la discriminación y la desigualdad.
Esta es una traducción de ‘Pè Nowèl Te Pè Pase Nan Pòtoprens, Ayiti’,
“Santa Claus Was Afraid to Pass Through Port-au-Prince, Haiti’.

Copyright © Diciembre 2024, Hébert Logerie, Todos los derechos reservados
Hébert Logerie es autor de varias colecciones de poemas.
Yenson Aug 2019
There stands our Novel Chamberlain
Xenophobic uber-prat with top dog pretensions
a weak chine coward showing profile unrefined
goggles dark, black shirted.shameless bully craves attentions
parody of a man mired in semblance exuding puerile ignorance fine
insipid pale republican Tonton Macoute compensating his limitations

There stands our novel Chamberlain
a oaf with mildew loaf, the  ubiquitous Brown shirt warrior
he's here, there pontificating absurd prose worthy of disdain
cringing vocabulary, warped voyeuristic styles, he straddles Parlio
emitting odious **** of a mentally deranged finding shelter in de rain
basking in mock praises from acolytes and accounts in his alter-egos

There stands our Nonentity Chamberlain
the charlatan of all poetic sides and raconteur un- magnifique
he's eaten in Laos, slept i Siberia, climbed the Laurent and lion slain
been all over the world, bedded women from China to Mozambique
he is a trialist, finalist, racialist, specialist, a fantasist, all but not plain
as he sits in ***** drawers in a dingy room masking his life oblique

There stands our 'no-mark' Chamberlain
dark shades and black T-shirt a poser fantasizing he is a G-man
look behind the facade and see the under-endowed troll insane
a coward, a nasty, witless, brain addled yob and **** fresh in a can
show me the confident wholesome being who does like this knave
a fake con artist, buffoon, with the pretentious guise so much in frame
Yenson Aug 2022
So our zealots of Papa Red Tonton Macoutes
inebriated on fish and chips
and enraged by their limp under-done tiddlers
wink wink tiddly-wink
decides as tonton marcoutes do to mount
their campaigns of terror

In ragging flaccid fervours the said they were
going to chip chip chip away
thirty years down the line the dunces are still
chip chip chipping way
God knows it must cost them a pricey fortune
replacing their blunts tools

Then our bands of lame possessed declared
it wearing out time
we will haunt harass and torment to worn out
commence whimsicality dopes
thirty years  of nonsensicality and fetid idiocies
they are still huffing and puffing

As the inherent clowns spit in the winds they said
ah, its psychic war-fare
and so began daft shadow-boxing with each other
hey! its remote attack don't you know
we sending signals and messing up mind and head
yeah! as simpletons do

So its ***** tonk jiving jazz and swinging hip-hop
mish mash loonies in self abuse
wanking in plain sight and parading their Emperor's
new coat while pinning the tail
and all they've done is now shown the bemused public
they are shamed and feel threatened by one man
Yenson Aug 2019
There stands our Novel Chamberlain
Xenophobic uber-prat with top dog pretensions
a weak chine coward showing profile unrefined
goggles dark, black shirted.shameless bully craves attentions
parody of a man mired in semblance exuding puerile ignorance fine
insipid pale republican Tonton Macoute compensating his limitations

There stands our novel Chamberlain
a oaf with mildew loaf, the  ubiquitous Brown shirt warrior
he's here, there pontificating absurd prose worthy of disdain
cringing vocabulary, warped voyeuristic styles, he straddles Parlio
emitting odious **** of a mentally deranged finding shelter in de rain
basking in mock praises from acolytes and accounts in his alter-egos

There stands our Nonentity Chamberlain
the charlatan of all poetic sides and raconteur un- magnifique
he's eaten in Laos, slept i Siberia, climbed the Laurent and lion slain
been all over the world, bedded women from China to Mozambique
he is a trialist, finalist, racialist, specialist, a fantasist, all but not plain
as he sits in ***** drawers in a dingy room masking his life oblique

There stands our 'no-mark' Chamberlain
dark shades and black T-shirt a poser fantasizing he is a G-man
look behind the facade and see the under-endowed troll insane
a coward, a nasty, witless, brain addled yob and **** fresh in a can
show me the confident wholesome being who does like this knave
a fake con artist, buffoon, with the pretentious guise so much in frame



,
Yenson Jul 2022
And the untitled are free-styling
puking rap testimonies from ***** life
in the morose of dense they are sledging
lower urbanites dribbling frustrations in strife

And the insignificants are jiving
boneheads playing roundheads is rife
inane Mensheviks chickens in dud pirouetting
the toy town soldiers in the psyche war at sixes and five

Our Tonton Macoutes are dribbling
bonkers in bunkers brigade of feathers lite
devoted crasheroonies snoozefests hogs bleating
its war of roses comrades stop the Prince getting a wife
Yenson Jan 2022
The Cosi fan Tutti and their vibrators
meet The Tonton Macoutes
at the Empire of Fish and Chips and pints
signing
Treaty of Chavis Vagabond et loonies
to rule the world
in their own graven images
for only them know what is right
No, make that what is Left
for all of us, yes! you and me and the kitchen sink
so like the Black Prince
pay attention I do not mean the pub
another offending infidel has been detained
for summary Cancellation and public  vilification and abuse
You are welcome to read her tale below

Let this be a Warning to any decent hard working law-abiding
person who believes in Free Speech or even a jocular backchat

Now get back to your pens sheep and lemmings
and continue your blah blah blah
your free will belongs to us.....


Poor Molly-Mae doesn't deserve this foul abuse

The case of Molly-Mae Hague, the reality TV star and 'influencer' who last week became the latest celebrity to be cancelled by the pitchfork-wielding Twitter mob, is a classic of our times.

All she did was reference a viral trend dating back to 2013 in which people shared clips of Beyoncé alongside the motivational quote: 'You have the same amount of hours in a day as Beyoncé.' In other words, if you work hard, you can do anything.

For that, she's been accused of 'not caring' about poor people, vilified by Left-wingers as 'Thatcher with a fake tan' and suffered appalling abuse such as 'she is best known for being getting her s*ch out on Love Island'.

By all means disagree with her, but that kind of language is just blind misogyny.

By SARAH VINE FOR THE MAIL ON SUNDAY
Yenson Sep 2021
The bovver knuckleheads
stranded him on The Road to Wigan Pier
without a maiden or a silver dime
'bad mistake' says he
for I am Pisces and mutable
can live in sea or land

The currents are my friends
I can float or scale the depths
worry not about me for there's lumpfish caviar
and fresh rain water in constant flow
there's on stress on Wigan's pier
no nine to five in the deep blue sea

Give my regards to the knuckleheads
keep them in line on the factory floors
they're bred to work
have they ever swam at the Revieria
or been to Saint-Topez
do they even know you can find champagne in Wigan

So the dingbats  Duvalier Tonton Macoutes
stranded him on The Road to Wigan Pier
I see an all expenses paid free holiday
here my friend the ultimate break from the rat-race
tell boneheads how many slaves died building your piers
and how many Irish navvies died building your roads
while your parents were suffering in Wigan
Satire...........Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, and Pisces
These are the signs that end the four seasons and are more flexible and comfortable with changes in life when compared to other zodiac signs.
the
Yenson Apr 2020
Appetizers....Wedges cooked in fakery
served with disinformation and misinformation

Main course....Discord and Disharmony
stepped in hot division and savory disunity

Side dish....Confusion and Instability
stirred in peppered Emotional assaults and garnished
with senses upheavals

A veritable array of Sweets and Confectioneries

Iced glace Slander in white chocolate sauce

Mixed Nuts marinated in Envy Fool

Small Spotted ***** with assorted STD creams

Baked Lies truffles pan-fried in Red aspic

Thugs Jelly and Loony Meringue

Caned Fruit-lops in Mud pies

Sour slimy trolls jellied Eels

Distressed White marshmallows

Please visit Cafe la Psychos et Anodyne Vigilantes
at Fools and Brainwashed Cowards Corner,
off  London Tonton Macoutes Blind Alley
opposite left of Personality Changers Dumb Svengali's Inn
Red Square, London

We look forward to your visit, you may never leave
Jimmy silker Aug 2024
Theres a war between hamsters and toads
How it started nobody knows
But it's lasted now
Since time out of mind
And the hate simply has not declined

A border dispute?
Or more Tonton macoute?
Hamsters don't go for it subtle
While the toads they abide
And wait for stars align
And know now its time to throw down

For thousands o years
It's was nothing but tears
Though neither are capable o crying
Through relentless attrition
And murderous ambition
By the countless millions
They were dying.

But there's news from the front
Arbitration's afoot
There be disrupters
Of slime and of fur
They want peace and not war
To both kings they implore
Pointless hatred
Must be denied.
Yenson Jan 2022
The anxiety that wears the Emperor's coat
for the Emperor's serfs with twenty-twenty visions
the Depression that takes the teasing micky
out of the blanched Tonton Macoute leaving eggs
on semi-illiterates fish and chips opposers' faces
the mama-I-am-crying simpletons because a blackman
has done better than us flakes in ***** Levi's
the angsts of the minute-men with their stub guns
venting frustrations on *** Magnum
the joke of ex-Slave Traders demanding reparations
from the sweat of ex-colonial immigrant
the absurdity of greedy pillagers and looters pointing
fingers yelling parasites and germ man
the unreal masking theft and extortion as revolution
hiding designer white robes and pointed hats
the psychology of clowns where right is wrong and wrong
is right if you're pale & steal your neighbour's goods
welcome to Vaudeville and tickets are free at the Red door
on the left near the left underground sign
your hard labour is appreciated and scums are most welcomed
Yenson Feb 2021
They live in ridiculous repartee
after graduating with dishonour from Blind Alley lane
with a Degree in Quack Hacks
majoring in The Doomsdays Book
their favourite write is
Make it up as you go along
and their watering hole is The Fools Paradise
and the jive to Elvis's Hound dogs
and bogey to Simple Minds
they have asinine answers for questions
and asinine questions for answers
the retorts of **** carrying **** rebuttals as they do
They live in ridiculous repartee our witless hackers
the backroom messengers of Fleet gutters
and Mama Pigs' Tonton Macoute
engaging farts in ridiculous repartees

— The End —