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katewinslet Nov 2015
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Joseph Paris Jul 2015
We should legit organize our own Celebrity Softball Game.
Play another Poetry Site
Or Intramural.
Show America a different side
of stardom.
Rent a sandlot.
Wolf starting pitcher,
Soul starting catcher.
Eliot umpires.
Everyone gets an At bat.
Instead of hating on each other,
Play together as a Team.
#why not
#seriously haters
I have come to succumb to a certain cliché, a cache of questions that so often seem to scuff the dance floor of adultolescents. “Who am I?” of course, a major inquiry but more importantly, “Who do I want to be?” and what am I becoming and when I become it, will it become me or will I not even want it…like a portrait of my mother…tattooed to my ***, her dear old face like some wretched rash (truly I’m not that crass). So I am scared of tomorrow and uncertain of now but everything used to be fine, so allow me to go back just a bit, to when I was, say about… FIVE.

I remember reclining on my grandmother’s couch in Hoboken, New Jersey watching star wars, I believe it was episode FIVE. Her apartment smelt of ***** and rice and beans and that reek of regret that rises from the corpses of broken dreams, and I can still see the light from the T.V. screen illuminating every corner of her living room, from the bookshelf, to the door with the welcome mat--an ironic greeter--to the picture of Jesus perched over the heater smiling down on and blessing the liars and cheaters who so often filled that room with soiled consciences and beaters. So there I was, I was FIVE, and I can clearly recall what I wanted to be, who I wanted to be in that moment: A Jedi! Oh it was a long time ago and it was far, far away, but I can still see the look on my grandmother’s face as I raced through space with my light saber broom beating Sith with a stick, protecting the room from Vader’s invaders making storm trooper stew, my weapon—my whisk; my rivals—my roux; the force—the flames, to boil the brew and the voice of my father at forty FIVE years of age telling me to quit messing around. And I said with a wave of my hand, “No, you quit messing around.” He said, “Why don’t you be a Firefighter?” I said, “no!”  “Why not a football player?” I said, “no!” “Jedi’s can’t marry. Jedi’s get lonely.” I said, “I want to be a Jedi and a Jedi only!” But like fire and fog and old Ben Kenobi, ideas like this must eventually fade.

So I grew to, I’d say about ten years old, that’s FIVE plus FIVE moving on to grade FIVE. Picture, if you will, me—the shortest kid on the little league baseball team, with grand aspirations; huge heaps of vivacity, and a strike zone too small for those poor umpires to see and I knew—I KNEW who I wanted to be: A baseball player! And an actor. A writer, crime fighter—the Jack Bower type who’s always in danger—a **** Tracy with *****; a heterosexual power ranger. Oh and an astronaut chef with a part time job as a rapper who talks about ******* and death and riches and **** holding the mic in my right and my junk in my left a protection of the kids in the crowd who might see my ******* brought about due to... back up dancers. Oh, and the president of the United States as well.

Now let’s jump to fifteen, that’s FIVE plus FIVE plus FIVE, I was a freshman in high school and still a freshman in life. But neither of these were important you see, and I rather gave up on the prospect of “me.” I traded my goals for an xbox which came with a discounted dose of apathy. ‘Cause high school is brimming with a bizarre batch of habits. When forced to attend one must endure or adapt it’s those tactless tactics those impractical practices; each pupil’s polluted with perturbing antics. So for much of that year I stayed home ignoring the mornings who tried to tell me I was alive and forgetting the spinning of the earth in its lonely slow dance to the daily tune of nine to FIVE.

I did outgrow that depressing stage. And now, here I am pushing twenty. That’s FIVE plus FIVE plus FIVE plus…it’s hard to believe but believe it I must. But these fingers that wipe away tears when I cry and fight, call for peace, encourage, deride, make decisions, rock hard, and swat away flies, shake hands, ask questions, and give high FIVES are so ******* familiar. So you see, I have put a great deal of thought into this and I think what I want to be is… FIVE.

Don’t you remember? When wherever you lived was the tip of the world, every rock you found was a glimmering pearl, and every face pointed at you grinned with jealous geniality. When Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, Jesus Christ, and easy money all had proper places in reality. When bunk beds were marvels standing miles from the floor and the little things were the greatest things on earth, and “stupid” was a swear word, each trip was an adventure, and every pocket was a candy cluttered purse. Grass was green not “getting too long to maintain” and skies were blue not “looking like they might bring rain” There was no need to feign a demeanor, there were no chains. You were unbound. And pain was a temporary hiatus from satisfaction…not the other way around. Everyone loved you, whether they loved you or not. No one judged you for your blindingly ignorant smile. You were pancakes and balloons and Saturday morning cartoons and guilt-free, care-free love—you were a child.

I don’t want to go back to that time in my life. I have no desire to swap my mind for comfortable bliss. What I want is to close my eyes for just FIVE seconds and when I open them again, the world will be new.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
sample size excavation:

urbanity forsake the village-metality
of the undisclosed biological
credo...
                     urbanity became
a pawn & pauper in a "clues",
which replaced facts...
                         i am more mushroom
than reptile or genital mutilation
grammar asking...

              finally! cricket has come home!
well... in between watching
roland garros,
and the ICC?
             even i can agree...
of all the h'american sports?
  baseball... sure...
ice hockey... sure...
     basketball... sure...
   h'american football?
esp. when watching rugby?
  i don't get it...
         scuffling in the middle...
pass back... one throw forward...
a decent runner...
         ball hits the deck...
"regroup"...
      reinforced rugby-esque scrum
drama...
    play-stop-play-stop...
ad. revenue interlude...
   start-stop-start-stop...
             doesn't it get boring, ever?!

i had to turn to cricket!
oh i'm enjoying the cricket...
it's like chess + braille + bridge
dynamic of tactic... sure...
it's not baseball...
       it's cricket!

   international test matches...
50 overs...
         50 x 6 = 300 throws of the ball...
1 over = 6 throws...
no other sport was so much
beautiful jargon,
so much stat.,

             and so many idiosyncratic
terms...
what do they call english
cricketers? tourists...
west indies (the carribean team?)
the windies...
          
          349-8 (349 runs...
         8 wickets)...
              
                   imagine a sport...
where it lasts so long that it errodes
your attention span like
a Tolstoy novel...
      come morning,
it finishes in the early hours of
the evening...

                cricket... quintessential
Dickensian replacement narrative...
and i've never seen more
laid back referees (umpires)...
what's a 4 to a 6
in terms of body language?

you have tactic akin to bowlers
throwing spin-accents...
so there's a minimum of a 1-2 1-2
runs... rather than 4 or 6 worth
of smackers...

            cricket isn't the worst
of games... by far h'american football...
that's the worst game, ever...
then, golf...
             **** me... table tennis
beats those two games,
even without all the glamour...
but itching chinese pretending
to be fast paced insect-esque
reaction time automatons...

                 i mean two female sport
events make complete sense...
tennis and gymnastics...

i don't even know why i enjoy cricket...
after all,
i am not exactly english "born and bred"...
bred from the age of 8...
hybrid mongrel...
i would still like to appreciate
the sports celebrated by the land
of my birth...
        żużel (speedway) and
(szczyptarze... almost a googlewhack...
2 results)...
                 hand-ball... and volley-ball...
greek wrestling...
      archery...
             sport is so under-represented
these days...
        only the major sports...
and at times, the monopoly associated
with their funding, their subsequent
traction of spectator numbers...
  it's so boring!
             it becomes too tribal!
totteham hotspur f.c.: born and bred!
there are so many other sports...
that do not entertain tribal ergonomics!
most of the olympic sports, for starters!

  today i was watching pakistan take
on england in the ICC world cup...
             ****- beauties all round...
      and then... for some "weird" reason...
the shadow of Rotherham...
     the cube didn't fit into the square
hole a gorilla was supposed
to push the prism through...
            
       there are just so many underrated
sports! it's not even worth criticising
sports per se...
         it's the sports that appeal to
the masses, that elevate the sport beyond
the sport per se, and craft trivial and
tribal affiliations that bothers me!

           i still think h'american football
is the dumbest sport available...
considering it as, rugby: devolved.
there's as much sense of passing the ball
backwards, imitating a charging wave
against a coastline of defence...
as there will ever be any sense found...
in scuffling in the middle
like some pretend boxing match...
allowing only one pass backwards...
and one runner maneuvering past the pointless
scuffle in the middle...
pass back, one throw, one catch...
                       run Forest! run!

o.k. even i found cricket a bit *******...
asparagus... ****... asperger syndrome
with its overt analysis...
   but even cricket looks better
than that ******* irish pub brawl
take on boxing that h'american football
represents...

bloated egos in armour...
           sorry, even ping pong looks
more appealing...
the ******* sumo diet worthwhile
to compete with...
        it's the cricket world cup...
and the time it takes to play out
100 overs?
    maybe chance upon a 6 run...
   8 wickets...
                      elsewhere
handball is pop, as is volleyball...
ski-jumping...
          
        sport per se isn't the problem...
it becomes a problem when
sport becomes tribal,
and the initial per se pleasure
of the spectacle of a sport is drained...
when people have to take sides...
when the sport per se cannot
be appreciated...
            hence the "concept" of the sport,
the logic of behind the sport is lost,
lost in the fact that it is lost to
it being monetized...

              when sport, resembles....
the kind of live performance,
akin to Heilung - Alfadhirhaiti...
while i am left, bound to the greater desires,
of moving to Greenland...
or the Faroe Islands...
        because even the English summers...
are starting to resemble
Indian summers more and more...
**** being your atypical English
sun-worshipper who "miraculously"
moved outside of London...

                         not, far, enough!
give me Greenland, give me the Faroe Islands,
give me Alaska!
    i can't stand this surge in
the creeping Summer heat about
to grind England to a halt!
                   however long it will take,
i wish to plan my escape to these lands...
i don't want a year's worth more,
in this little saudi land of the north,
with pubescent saudi ******* racers
bragging their diesel lamborghini *******
down Knightsbridge!
the sport of cricket
is no longer a clean game
bribes and corruption
have dowsed it in shame

***** money has walked
onto the cricket pitch
and it does so give
the sporting pundits a severe stitch

ball tampering by the players
and umpires being paid off
these disrespectful actions
causing cricket lovers to fulsomely scoff

the game of cricket has been
so badly sullied over the past few years
and it does so make the fans
feel less incline to cheer

cricket has a grubby tarnish
upon it these days
the ICC should be disinfecting
the game's wicked ways

devotees of cricket are not
a happy lot
they are waiting for the wicket
to be cleansed of all the ***** rot
The day arrived, the sun was out
The sky was perfect, calm
All was as it should be
No resistance 'fore the storm
A winter gone, a spring in bloom
Things were as things should be
Fresh paint and banners hung out
For all the world to see
Bunting just the way it was
On days like this before
It showed off baseball's history
No less and nothing more
The lines were crisp and dedicated
The foul lines and the fair
The team logos were painted
Silence hung in the spring air
A church for fifty thousand
To revere this game they'll see
And if each single seat is filled
There'll be fifty thousand forty three
The boys of summer own this field
New history shall be made
While fans scream for their favorites
As the game is being played
A chess game on such pristine grass
At this park it's real
At others you will find that it
Is plastic...and lacks feel
The players, some are new as well
They were not here last year
The owners changed the line ups so
Your favorites are not here
Fathers, sons, and daughters
Share this circus every spring
It's a rite of family passage
To most a holy thing
New jerseys, hats and banners
Showing where alliegance lies
There is no joy in Mudville
As each person chooses sides
The umpires, too, begin anew
They must be on the ball
Today's game is most scrutinized
You cannot miss a call
The sense of pomp and circumstance
In this annual ceremony
Breaks out all of the rituals
In a loud cacophony
The teams announced and anthems sung
Color parties raise the flags
This is what baseball's all about
Home plate and three new bags
The smell of ******* jack and beer
Hot dogs and candy corn
Soon start to infiltrate the park
And they break up this fresh morn
The players sit below now
Waiting for the game to start
Cliche speeches break the air
As the managers play their part
It's time to all get ready
Put this years "uni" on
And to rid your self of buttlerflies
And get that feeling gone
You check yourself before hand
Make sure that the outfits good
And you go over the ground rules
And know exactly what you should
Your'e as important to this game now
You are the holder of their fate
For your job is most important
You let the patrons though the gate
The actors in this rite of spring
Are varied in their roles
From players, umps and concessioneirs
They all make baseball whole
The opening of each season
Shows off every single team
From the players out there on the field
To the ones behind the scenes.
You put your best foot forward
Because you want them all to say
That baseball is just special
Because of Opening Day.
For those of you who like baseball
I.

A louse in a house
or a mouse on a blouse.
A bell that goes ****
or a gong that goes ****.
A gap on a map
or a cap on your lap.
A drink in the sink
or an ink that stinks.
A spleen on a screen
or a queen who is green.
A bow in the snow
or a crow that glows.

II.

A wash or a whip,
a lip or a lop,
a top or a tip,
a car or afar,
a bar or a war,
a door or a snore,
a bore or a nail,
a flail or a whale,
a run or a bun,
a sun or a moon,
a spoon or a bus,
a fuss or a sigh,
a cry or a cheer,
a fear or a smile,
a while or a pen,
a den or a cat,
a mat or a hat,
a bat or a glass,
a vase or a weight,
a mate or a fork,
a cork or a mop,
a cop or a stop.

III.

Apples and artichokes, ants and antelopes,
bees and beers, books and brains,
cucumbers and chimneys, ***** and coats,
dogs and drains, dots and dominoes,
ears and eejits, elephants and exams,
flies and flutes, files and friends,
grasses and guts, giants and gyms,
horrors and hiccups, horses and hills,
igloos and irons, irises and idiots,
jumpers and jackets, jodhpurs and jellies,
kings and kettles, kites and kittens,
lions and lamps, lemons and lunches,
mums and monsters, mosses and moths,
noses and notes, nightmares and needles,
oblongs and orang-utans, organs and oranges,
paintings and pennies, ponds and pants,
quiches and quizzes, questions and queues,
rainbows and rings, rascals and rabbits,
snakes and sprouts, sweets and salts,
trumpets and trains, tables and toasters,
umpires and ukuleles, umbrellas and uniforms,
violets and vests, violins and vials,
wheels and wings, windows and weeds,
xylems and x-rays, xylophones and xysters,
yachts and yoghurts, yards and yaks,
zigzags and zephyrs, ziggurats and zombies.
Written: October 2013.
Explanation: A poem in three parts written in my own time. I guess this is aimed primarily at young children - written mainly as a bit of fun. Although the language is fairly simple for a child to understand, some words will obviously be unfamiliar, but perhaps if read aloud a definition of the word could later be provided to the child. It is unlikely a child would use the word 'ziggurats' for example, but nevertheless, these more challenging words might be interesting to a child, simply because of the sound and unfamiliar nature of it.
Mateuš Conrad May 2017
11
.ich bin der feuer, das bloß isst, und isst, und isst... und... isst; ein feuer das für immer verbrauchen!

i counted...
you know how many times, it takes a male
sparrow to approach a female sparrow,
            to impregnate her?
                                                 11... ELEVEN -        eh-lé-ven...
                            é-le(h)-ven...
­             times...
                                          it's almost like
******* for the darwinists...
                                   at least the marxists say:
                                 woman ≠ mantis ≠ black widow spider...
the biology of marxism is stated, plainly:
we exclude all other biological products
of this earth... we accept a case for bio-diversity...
    but what will transgender ever do for us?
as asked, simply an e.g.
                       marxism doesn't draw conclusion
from the animal realm...
     it's not supposed to...
                          you want to compare yourself
to a mantis?    **** me! go right ahead...
       "eat" the man in the legal courts...
                   bite his head off... or at least make
his head focus on the vector alimony.
                 marxism is species exlusive...
            social darwinism? it's species inclusive...
hence the comparisons...
                                 women as black widows...
       it's ******* sick... at least compare yourself
to a ******* serpent...
               which, i'm trying to find the ****,
and eyelids on...
                                    huh?
                  ­ last time i heard snakes don't blink...
and that's auto-suggestive of the question:
   how do they take a ****?
                      i can't call the cards stating a
"cultural" marxism... since what is cultural,
                                      is actually darwinism.
by now, marxism says: stop the ******* comparison
of the highest form of mammal (human)
                with the lowest form of reptile (insect)!
*******!               and if that's not what's going on,
then i'm either dead, writing from beyond the grave,
of plain stupid...     the self-raising flour type
                                                 of argumentative(s);
the moment they stop denying that cultural darwinism
doesn't exist?       that's when you have an excuse.
me? i have my whiskey, and my cigarettes,
    and some fleetwood mac...
                                     and i live on the borderline
between an urban environment, and the countryside...
       what's one of my favourite hobbies while drinking?
sorting oout the trash... i have this fetish for
     recycling... i get all itchy fingers, like an octopus
when it comes to sorting out the trash...
          like a german with his wind-farm's worth turbines...
i love recycling... those orange bags...
                   you know that marxism was born from
             the meagre material of hegel's lecture notes, right?
and that mongolia was the first communist country?
     yeah, they experimented the ideology in mongolia, first.
anyway... getting drunk, and taking out the trash...
        recycling...    for some reason, i can only compare it
to riding a bicycle in the english countryside...
    or the sound of a french horn... compared to a cow farting.
a maine **** farting:
**** me, that's like seeing the taj mahal!

p.s.
i find it uncomfortable to find millenials
faking praises of the gen-Z...
ping-pong in the modern labyrinths
of shopping, really?
you said your bit, let me say mine...
   people are not made to become
precursors?! really?!
   problem...
as a male... an older woman drunk
looks pathetic:
an old man drunk: eh... that's just normal...
an 50+ aged bachelor:
no problem...
a 50+ "maiden": that's terrible...
a solitary man ageing doesn't
look half as bad as an ageing woman...

   who looks better:
roger moore "vs." helen mirren?
too many predictions /
past the common spreschen:
predicts in association to
a respectable lingua...

what are, "my" precursors for the worth
of completing myself...
i hear the warrior-"philosophers"
spew...
    in light of infanticide...
man up man up to, what?
   what are my ambitions in
and to thorough life?
              none resemble the affects
associate with serving the ambitions
of a genus, of a species,
of a cultural darwinism narrative,
as if to, magically,
counter the cultural marxist narrative...
i am to counter?
really?! what's there's to counter?
all the idiot will be half-way through
breeding while i'm planning
my exit strategy...
the human species will be fine
and dandy... whether white or copper
skinned is beside the point...
i just don't tend to appreciate
abortion frivoloties and whatever remains
of masculine ambitions...
well i already know what "masculine ambition"
involves with the opposite ***...
within the confines of oneself...
hello prison esque "return the favor"...
shoved my head up my own ***
for too long i guess...
or a not deep enough pocket of "spare" change...
to fund:
               how many moments of insight will
you find listening to a high-heel
on a vinyl rack when a vinyl is missing?!
as many as i would ever have...
   nooooooooooooooooooon!

    what have i not obliged myself to become
to counter social expectations?
i am a social nuisance...
    a culmination of the reigning pathos...
but a sorry state of affairs
is truly a woman in her 30s and her 40s
with... more an abortion in hand
than a birth of a child and a second child
to come...
  a drunk woman always appears more
forlorn than a drunk man....
as a man: i am persistent in providing
myself with the ambition
of giving birth ti myself,
even after i am born...
   i am still to be born,
in that i am to give birth to myself:
a feat, which will finally materialise upon
my death...
but a woman?
     if she hasn't ventured into her
biological realism of spawning birth...
that outcompetes her own
intellectual endeavour and surpasses it?
i don't have that existential luxury
of an existential fulfillment process of
the "easy answer"...
the best i can accomplish to compensate
a replica in terms of being pregnant
is harvest an array of parasites...
tapeworm or cancer...
certainly not a matthew,
or a samatha, or a malachi,
        or an amelia.

                   the closest i'll ever come
to an experience of a foetus is my own ego...
to learn to disembody myself in the variations
of:
   (a) the reflexive: myself, and
(b) the reflective: my self...
                  women have the easy existential
explanation: to provide the continuum narrative...
"we", men? the sort of ******* that comes
in between, the custard explanations,
the excuses worth the ingenuity of "problems
solved".

   question is: where these the "problems"
to begin with?
    this desolate man still concerns himself
with tennis:
two players...
an array of umpires... the size of a football team
(11)... and the ball collector boys / girls
(6)...
       an old bachelor... is half the problem
of the half of society's ills...
                   but an old maid / spinster?
        
a drunk man can retain his stage of funny...
but a drunk woman of the same age
is just tragic.
Paul Morgana Mar 2013
The calendar reads March, the winter is done,
Its time for the spring and all kinds of fun!

Work your body, as the days grow long,
Exercise your muscles, and get real strong!

Things come alive, trees start to bud,
Testosterone flows, men feel like a stud.

Women look for a man to provide,
Less clothes on the body, no skin to hide

Play ball! The baseball umpires cry,
A long fly ball, hit high into the sky.

Unstable weather, warm and then cold,
It matters little, this story is told,

About the season that is loved by most,
The days lengthen, and other things to boast,

Like the hockey playoffs, at Madison Square,
Turn on the TV and pull up a chair,

Watch the Rangers play and kick some tail,
When shooting the puck, they cannot fail.

The Knicks also are home at the Square,
For years, their playoff cupboard's been bare.

Things looking better, hope the veterans last,
A ring for the team, lies deep in the past.

Easter time occurs in the spring,
The son of God and strong feelings he brings,

The story does tell, of his death on the cross,
Mankind's big mistake, what a terrible loss.

All these good things, happen in the spring,
Nature smiles at this time, and we fly on her wing.

Visit poemsbypaul.com
Giants of Manuka

Johnny’. Hello and welcome to the cold Manuka oval in Canberra for the last giants home match being played here and tonight, the opponent is the mighty Adelaide crows, who were last years runners up, and this year they meet with giants are 4th while the crows are on 12th, it should be a great game this evening and hopefully we won’t get anymore rain but we very well might and now at the gate here is Gil tucker, well Gil have we got any happy crowd members
Gil’. Yes Johnny we have 4 people from rivett singing a jingle they made up this morning
4 from Rivett’
Come on giants, the crows have had their chance, they lost last years grand final and we fell one game short but who cares about 2017 when the giants are still up in the 8 and if we win today we will be pressing to beat what we did for the last 2 years so carn the mighty giants mate pile the pressure on mate
Carn the mighty giants never give up without a fight
Go giants, Adelaide are finished
Go the mighty giants
Gil’. Thank you for that lovely bit of entertainment here at giants at Manuka and Johnny, I think it will be a lovely night for footy here at Manuka
Johnny’. Thank you Gil and now both teams are out on the ground training and getting a feel of the ground and there is no sign of rain at the moment but who knows what will happen later, now the banners of the giants and crows have just arrived on the ground and mate there are a lot people who are part of both teams especially the giants, playing to get themselves back to the top 4 and the mascots have come on the ground as well, this is very exciting ready for a footy party mate and what a party it is, first of all the giants running on, and then came the crows, this is going to be a great night for footy, and now over to Gil, with some more spectators chants
Gil’ thanks Johnny and here is Bradley Simmons from Queanbeyan with a song for you
Brad’ ok we are cheering loud
And also strong the team is the mighty giants
They will put on the power to get back in the 4
Where they ****** belong
I know the crows are good
But they have had their chances
Yes we must go one better this year
So the way we will do that
Is to win our last match here
In Manuka
Go giants of Manuka
Gil’ thank you brad and now back to Johnny
Johnny’ yeah,what a chant and I hope the giants have what it takes to win this evening
So let’s get ready to party dudes, let’s see if the giants have what it takes to beat the crows tonight
Quarter time
Johnny’ welcome to the quarter time show and our giants and the crows are head to head
Giants are 4 4 28 just 1 point in front of the crows 4 3 27 and it is a crackerjack game so far and dance cam has just started and they dance holding the ball in the air and meanwhile the giants and the crows are still in their groups and here is Gil with his fan
Gil’ yes here is rob
Rob go giants keep it up
A close first quarter now we must break away
Go giants
Gil’. Thank you rob and now back to the match
Johnny’ yes what a match this has turned out to be the crows are 7 7 49 to our mighty giants of Manuka 6 9 45, a very close match for both teams tonight and now over to Gil with some spectators with their chants, hopefully these chants will inspire our giants to play a good second half
Gil’. Thank you Johnny and yes it is a very exciting game and now here is Jane with her chant
Jane’. My name is Jane and I say right here
That the giants are good enough to win the cup this year
You see they need to hold their marks and kick goals rather than behinds but if they do that
The sky is the limit you see
So if you are enjoying this close game the giants are definately going to claim the fame
Go giants
Gil’ thank you Jane and now bob with his chant
Bob go go go go go the giants must win
Go go go go go go they are the best around
In every single town oh yeah
The mascots are having fun
But they prefer us to be leading
We need to cut them up till they are bleeding go giants go
Gil’ ok thanks bob and now back to Johnny
Johnny’ love the chants and now queen are blasting the stadium as our giants of Manuka have entered the ground as well as the crows and umpires, oh well here is the second half
Go the mighty giants
Johnny’ welcome to three quarter time and a great match with the giants getting back in front the giants are 11 14 80 to the crows 10 9 69, 11 points up and I can tell you that the giants have the power to win, but Adelaide are keeping it close
What a great game here is Gil
Gil’ thank you and now here is a chant from jack from Sydney
I love you I love you I love you said the umpire to the crows
I love you I love you I love you
We are counting all their wohs
The march has a quarter to go
So go the giants give us a go
Gil’ thank you and now time for the final quarter go giants
Johnny’ welcome to the full time wrap and what a win for the GWS, over the Adelaide crows
GWS 15 16 106 to Adelaide 13 14 92 and the giants of Manuka surely reigned supreme and here is Gil with some of the spectators
Gil’. Yeah what a win for the giants and that put them back in the top 3 and now here is Peter from Campbelltown with his victory song
Peter’ it is the big big sound
From Canberra town
The team is the mighty giants
They won the match
The crows will splat
In the boots before the giants
We jump up to our highest peak
Better than the rest
We are the greater western Sydney giants
Stronger than the rest
Gil’ thanks Peter and mate it was a great game
Peter’ yeah what a win by the greater western Sydney giants
Top win better than the rest
Go giants
Gil’ and now here is olly
Olly’ go giants we have won
We knocked the crows to kingdom come
Yes we’re great and we can make the grand final
We will be ready for the tigers
We will win
Go giants go giants go giants go
The team from Sydney with a lot of get up and go
Go giants
Gil’ yeah thank you olly and I can say just one thing go the mighty giants for 2018
And now back to Johnny to sign off from giants of Manuka
Johnny’ yeah, what a win
The giants 15 16 106 to the crows 13 14 92 and I want to say to all the kick to kick dudes
Just one thing, are you ready dudes
Kick to kick people’
And now we draw the final curtain
Yes it’s the giants triumphant against the crows
There were a few hiccups
But at the end it was totally wild
Everybody cheered forever
The party was pretty cool
Now let’s go home or to our parties yes go the giants yeseree
Go the giants
Johnny’ thanks for watching giants of Manuka and go the giants for the rest of the year ok
Catch ya dudes and dudettes
Julie Grenness Mar 2017
Here, this a noble book!
400 pages of total sook,
Let's turn the page and have a look,
Why the team did lose,
Didn't the supporters boo,
It's published by OUP,
Snivelling galore, read  and see,
"We was robbed!", we all got that,
"Did not pull the flag out of the hat!"
"We was too slow and small!"
We got that, is that all?
"No, the umpires are maggots and cheats!"
Got that! "Gee, the team played weak!"
Got that, any excuse for you,
"Our team are bunch of tools!"
Got that, "They had no skills!"
Got that, "They're a pack of dills!"
Any excuse, now blame the coach again,
"Another year of footy down the drain!"
You're supposed to be good losers, eh,
Any excuse for you, that's the way!
Feedback welcome.
Jackie Mead Jun 2018
Oh what a scene
Cricket being played on a field of green
Eleven players per team all dressed in whites
What a fabulous, glorious sight
Bowlers bowl, Batsmen bat
Umpires keep the score, was he out, "howzat"
Bowlers aim not too high, not too low
Bowlers bowl not too fast and not too slow
Batsmen notching up the runs
Receiving the ball at full speed, hitting the ball to the boundary for a four
If their lucky they will hit it for six, over the boundary bar
A coin is tossed for who bats first, the losing team defending
Six ***** per over, 50 overs per inning
Who scores the most is the team that is winning
A few rules to abide
Keep your leg to the side, dont get caught leg before wicket
Bowlers of pace, try to keep the ball away from the batsmans face
If you are caught out before you score, a duck will appear on the scoreboard
A century is of course one hundred runs, simply known as a ton
Then comes a break for afternoon tea, sandwiches and cakes all freshly baked
The second team step up to the mark
For this typically English game in the park
Families attend from far and wide to watch the battles of the two cricket sides
Battling it out on a field of green, halcyon days continuing
Inspired by tonight's evening walk, field full of cricketers, Love cricket, it is so typically English, the only game I know that supplies an afternoon tea of cakes, quiche, sandwiches, teas and coffee for the players as well as spectators, brings back very happy memories.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2021
warrior's march (anonymous ottoman) -
jordi savall - montserrat figueras...

or perhaps... chevalier, mult estes guaritz
(1146)...

because there isn't enough hours
in a day
to listen to BBC radio 3...
perhaps there might be enough wine...
but...
there aren't enough hours
in a day to listen to BBC radio 3:
go figure... no adverts too...
but as ever...
i never warmed up to the idea of a d.j.:
i don't like being surprised by
a choice of music without
me choosing it...

i will not brag about liking
classical music...
i will not brag about jazz...
there's this surreal middle ground
a music that doesn't belong in
any real discussion
or ref. making...

it's a music that can exist without
the weight of a name
akin to: associated with herr mozart...
etc.
when no one owns it
after all it must be a drag
to have to own something
for an "almost" measure of:
if eternity is to be measured -
immortality is a word that
weighs one down... less...

i'd imagine my name to be of note:
100 years after i'm dead...
point being: i'm joking...
but at some point it could, possibly...
expire?
unless of course...
a Plato doesn't what doesn't
change is something incremental...
that **** is covered
by A'Tuin
          (ahtuin)
               Tubul... Jerakeen... Berilia...
T'Φon...
           strange how the surd / vowel
catcher of the rugby goal posts of H
are missing... no?

   if rugby or football was not discovered
by someone meditating on
the letter H...
  tennis? what's that?
a game of... 7 rectangles... no?
and in the "ol'" days...
two tennis players...
a football team's worth of umpires
and at least 4 ball boys...

no wonder tennis is not popular
recreationally...

i'm hopeful that this year will
be a good year for wine...
homemade of course...
it's that much more... revealing to make
something of your own like that...
although... hardly baking a cake...
if we were not bound to this:
insomnia... of information...
insomnia of... libido...
and having access to enough
wine whiskey:
mind you... even Plato is noted as making
the whimsical conclusion:
the man who invented (discovered)
beer - bless him... although
retaining his anonymity...

fame out of focus...
i could understand posthumous fame...
all the more in that something
was achieved in life
something was striven for in life
and it could obliterate all
distractions...
this once ludricous pursuit of:
argument...
  ludicrous - sauerkraut...
              gherkins in brine...
i guess i am of a people who cling
to Germans more than they ever might
cling to those... Rushkies... Sorbs...
Wends...

after checking the champions' league
scores
i had to have a little history lesson
in what was the Seljuk Empire...
well it's not Islam was knocking
at the gates of Europe... the Turks were...
looking at the Turks now...
i see something richly problematic...
too cosmopolitan and all-world influenced
trade: global traffic...
i can't imagine not having some
orthodox spices for a curry
in my kitchen...

   Polacks are afraid of spices...
at least prior generations...
salts that does pepper's work too...
to the wok with you to fry up
those bland... raw cashews!

- like... the Darwinian argument
or the Copernican argument...

i clearly can't listen to classical music either...
it's... too complicated... too many notes...
it's too strict Pavlov-esque almost...
it's great it's nice it might require
a Royal Albert Hall but most of the time
i'm just pretending to like it...
unless of course of really like it:
Prokofiev's Lt. Kije...
  or the Alexander Nevsky - Battle on the Ice...

- that there is so much talk
of this supposed "freedom" in the vest:
of way, when, why...
these lineages of congregating
oppressors...
calls out for: fascism but not
the tea of... english immigrants
are never, immigrants...
to no self: no known other...

         that the english have no denotation
concern for concept of diaspora..
no wonder everyone is everyone's
better kept: cold kettle
and expatriate...

such nuance in convo that it really
doesn't matter...
after all...
i'm spewing half-mind verbiage
and i'm not supposed to be content with it...
but i still live among
the foreign-natives
of these isles than
be among "my" brethren who
have reclaimed circa 6 years under
the Nazis... half a century (circa)
under Bolshevik incredulity...
and then this, somehow new, "now"...

but at least the stupid forks in the road
listened to my advice: although
i didn't give any: and kept their currency...
like i might own women
or own a history of "me" and "my" people...
i don't really regard that
a niche market for any thought
or strict reminding of: 'ought...
either...

it's one of those nights where i'm
the d.j. i'm gagging for some hard liquor
all that's available is some
homemade wine
and i have an appointment for
9am over the telephone... etc.

back to the quest for alphabet-icals...
beside the vowels...
Y - i petition is... a vowel and is not...
a consonant...
so: a, e, i, o u, y... there are... 6 vowels...
19 aeons and 19 consonants...
but i ask...

why would i, ply: perhaps this is
me bilingual "schizoid" making
a mock of the natives who never left
for: the great east aust-rare-land...
zoo a new land...
hay'tch no... ha ha... or... sigh: aah...
ygrek...
            not igrek...
             last time i checked russians
tried to sharpen that phonetic "detail":
with their bl bl bl diacritical "marks"...

beside the point of vowels...
ah: or "a"
eh: or "e"
  oh: or oh...
   "i" (aye, yes) or: i(s)ch...
uh: ugh: or "u" & yew / you...

yes... this must be me...
bilingual "schizoid"...
         my new found freedom...
but why did the greeks have nouns
for their letters...
alpha (a-lpha)
beta (b-eta)
but it also denotes an... übersinn?
         letters had noun status to later denote
them as scientific consonants...
yes... the ancient greeks were unique
in that they were decisively
the children of the ancient world...

****** / down-syndrome fiasco of our
modern we...
clearly...
so back to basics...
a suggestion of concern for only
the puritanical minded bollocking a riddle...
because there's no bull to ride...
if syllables are to go by...
katakana is problematic because
the syllables all begin with a consonant...
their ******* Fukushima figurines...
it's not like you can write...

   it like a periodic table for: sodium: Na...
  ナ
well.. ha ha... you can...
but the breaking point of my concern
comes...
NA: ナ
            seems a waste to conjure AN...
                               アン

and so forth:

               イン  INI     ニ                
               ウン  UNU ヌ
               エン  ENE  ネ
               オン  ONO ノ

no? try reciting the english alphabet...
while following the "proper" guidelines
of the angry prefix lady and letter as noun...
transcending whether
it be... i doubt Greeks have a concept
of vowel or consonant...

outside the realm of vowels...
prolonged or caught by H for either: short... sigh...
or elongated laughter via ha ha...

why is it: Be
  and not eBB?
why Cee (cedilla!)
and not eCk...
Dee
   and not eD...
tell me!
    but now it's eF
but not... Fee!
    or F'eh...
           Gee but not
eGG...
    music, people! music!
        eM but not Meeeeeee!
Kay but not aK...
          eL but not Lu...
        Jay Jay - lodge - touch  o'
      Raj -
          eN...
                          N'eh...
    end: no?
             *** & peeee
                          eee
                           ee
                             e
up...                op-
                                 apparently...
"p"...
          Q...
kew... gardens... quo? kwo?
        qua? kwa?
         awry K...
            that's "q"...
    aR...
                 but not... Re-garding...
        Re-vealing...
oh i believe you... the Fwench had
a tarantula at the battle of Hastings
and you lost your trill of it...
let alone the thrill of it... like:
a barrel run ol' sod...
never, never mind...

           but it's still: aR... and not Ro... no?
it's eS and not: Su(e) or Si or So...
or S'eh...
   or s(igma)... is, it?
it's Tea but not eTymology...

if you were to write ALPHA
or OMEGA like a "hebrew"...
  perhaps... Lamb-of-Delta...
        i.e. AΛΦ
  &           ΩMΓ      

   oomph: oh i mind...
                    pool to pull... to: tow...

                 at the altar of the alpha brood
i'm not 2nd... i'm last...
i'm the completed plethora of sensations...
i am not nibbling at the to
i am lasting incongruent...
imbecile in the feminine eyes
that discover all things via
simplicities of feline conjecturing...

by the gods of Ivanhoe, rubber
and Prometheus!

Tao... besides my "tea"...
via - ups a pumpernickle!
           v = w = ł = w = v
(fał) -
  well your people shouldn't
have started a war
in our defence... should they?

CH = X - IKS...
             ξζ pairig...
    κσε
                or... κση... ha ha : "q"...
    do you even know how spanish
a greek sounds when a greek
compliments you speaking english?
no... it's not my thirst: or first for: dough
a black sorrow: forward so...

the old phrasing...
   θought & φilosoφy
                 ΦΘΨ (key, hole... door...
open... sezzame)...

ZEDZEDZEDZEDZEDISTTOTZED
ZEDISTZEDISZEDTOTZEDISTTOT
­ZEDZEDZEDZEDZEDISTTOTZED
ZEDISTZEDISZEDTOTZEDISTTOT
ZEDZEDZEDZEDZ­EDISTTOTZED
ZEDISTZEDISZEDTOTZEDISTTOT
ZEDZEDZEDZEDZEDISTTOTZED
Z­EDISTZEDISZEDTOTZEDISTTOT
Big Virge Aug 2021
So Are You The Exception... ?
Or Are You... The Rule... ?
  
Cos’ I’m An EXCEPTIONAL...  
Spoken Word Dude... !!!  
    
Cos’ My Use of This Tool...  
Is... Spoken Word Cool... !!!  
    
So Is Used To SCHOOL...  
Those Who Exude...  
A LACK of Uniqueness....  
Inside of Their Speeches...  
And Spoken Word Pieces...  
    
Spoken Word FAECES...  
Seems To Be Their Thesis... ?!?  
    
While My Form of Speech...  
Deals In... TELEKINESIS...  
    
REMOVING ALL WEAKLINGS... !!!  
And IGNORANT Teachings....  
With EXCEPTIONAL Readings...  
That Deal In DEEP MEANING... !!!!!!  
    
Because There’s NO CEILING...  
That Limits My Being.... !!!  
    
By This I Mean THINKING...  
That’s Constantly Linking...  
Itself To GREAT HEIGHTS...  
of... Using of My Mind  ... !!!  
    
Like EXCEPTIONAL Flyers....  
My Thinking Flies HIGHER...  
Than Those Who Conspire...  
Like... Covenant Liars...  
Or YES Those BAD Friars... !!!  
    
... EXCEPTIONAL Danger... !!!  
  
SURROUNDS These Nay Sayers...  
Whose Game Lacks The Metal...  
For Them To Stay... Central...  
    
Or Balanced When Challenged...  
To Prove They’ve Got Talent...    
    
So They Work With Bias...  
Like... CROOKED Umpires... !!!  
    
My Rule Is To Move...  
ABOVE What Is Crude...  
    
So... NO To Abuse...  
In Verse That I Use... !!!  
    
It’s EXCEPTIONAL Fools...  
Who Make Me Exude...  
A Need To Be RUDE...  
In Verse That I Choose...    
    
My Exceptions Make Rules...  
So... Choose To Refuse...  
Being Cornered Or Placed...  
In Boxes With FAKES... !!!  
    
So EXCEPTIONS Are Played...  
With Recorded Wordplay...  
That’s Straight From The Page...  
of Wordplay Arranged...  
... Inside of My Brain... !!!  
    
Just Like The Music...  
That Keeps My Flows Grooving...  
    
So It’s Clever Producers...  
Who Infuse Sonic Coolness...  
To Lyrical Movements...  
of Verses I’m Using...  
    
And Yes Women *******...  
Are Quickly Congruent...  
With Movements So Fluid...  
That They Be Producing...  
The Sweetest of Juices... !!!  
    
Because I Be SOOTHING...  
Their Need For Love Duties... !!!  
    
I’m RARELY Unruly...  
An EXCEPTION Folks TRULY... !!!  
    
I’d Rather Be Fuelling...  
My Writings With Prudence...  
And Views When Exuded...  
That Are Unique And Fluent...  
    
As Well As Yes Being...  
What Some Call...  
    
... PROFESSIONAL...  
    
Cos’ They’re Also A Thing...  
That Is Known As...  
    
...... “ EXCEPTIONAL “..... !!!!
You decide folks ...
When bat meets ball
It makes a loud crack
It may be gone
It might be fouled back

It’s a game of inches
You never can tell
But if it’s a home run
You can bet they’ll all yell

Oh, look at that!
It’s a ball through the hole
The right fielders got it
He’s going to throw home

Is he safe?!
Is he out?!
It’s the umpires call
The ump called him safe!
The catcher dropped the ball

The boy who was safe
Runs with glee
Wow!, What spirit!
What a great team!
I wrote this when I was in middle school but wanted to share it
young eyes and young hearts are opening
forming bridges and questioning
gifts are everywhere that you look
the face of god is your own face
the sight of angels is filled with grace
umpires call the shots from their tree houses
while entire empires have fallen
faster than those very same tree tops
KV Srikanth Jun 2021
Flushing Meadows 91
Jimbo had a last 4 run
Out of tune in the earlier open
Had a wrist surgery done

Approaching his 39th birthday
A few days away
Started his night which went into day
Patrick McEnroe at the other end holding sway

Two sets to love
Three games to love
Love 40
Down in all 3 parameters
Sets Games and Points
A full house crowd
Gently dispersed
Not wanting to see the Legend once fierce
Now in reverse

I got him and the match
Patrick thought but as he said
With Jimbo you never can tell
Till you shake hands at the net
Exactly what happened next
Jimmy turned the match
Third set with his lead diminishing
Jimmy said famously
See you in the 5th
Met him as promised
Shook hands at the net
2 am the next
Winning the match

Many Greats who'd left the stands
Embarrassed to see him play the losers hand
Decided the result before hand
Papers next day had a surprise in hand

They want more drama
Iam gonna give it to them
The Jimmy Connors scream
Tells us that we too can dream

Next on the other side
Michael Schapers
Reached a ranking of 25
Now a qualifier
Had a bad year earlier
Hence put thru the grinder
It was vintage Jimbo
3 sets in the row
Dutchman was a no show

Karel Novacek
The no 1 Czech
Seeded 10 was once 8
Lost in straights
Few games into the first set
Thought Jimbo was easy to get
Made the same mistake
Different story at the net
Shook hands in disbelief
Actually felt a sense of relief
The sold out crowd chanting Jimbo s name
Court converted into a Colloseum all the same
Every point Jimmy lost
Crowd turning hostile representing a lynch mob

September 2nd
39th birthday celebrations
20000 plus audience
Joining the celebrations
Celebrated in his own style
Pre Quarter final on the line

Aaron Krickstein
Standing in between
Jimbo and history
When it comes to glory
No one fights harder than Jimmy

A former world number 6
Had his ambition fixed
He had his tricks
Standing in the midst
Front row seat for Legendary Jimbo grit

Tennis Stadium sounded
Like a football game
No individual sport had garnered such fame
Tempers flying in all directions
Umpires decisions questioned regarding its effectiveness
David Littlefield in the chair
Had a lot of heat to bear
Formed a new vocabulary
Kids of that generation used constantly

One game away from
The match slipping away
2/5 down in the 5th set
Feral instincts intrinsic
Created the birthday magic
Everything he did defied logic
Fans ecstatic

Lost the first set against Paul Haarius
Won three next 3 marching into the Semi
Considered by many to be the greatest point in Tennis history
Time stopped in New York city as people went dizzy

Everything changes
On of the most uses adages
Won the US open 5 times
On all  the 3 different surfaces at different times
Clay Hard and Grass
Including the inaugural win at Flushing Meadows
Going into week no 2 a miracle
Even for a 5 time winner of the title
The story he scripted here biblical
Lost in the last 4 battle to Courier
But won the hearts forever
No sacrifice big enough for immortality
His heart the reason for his enduring popularity
My city and My people as he declared proudly
5 generations of opponents during a 20 year career none could have handled this more Wisely

Playing against him
Is like playing against an army of 40000 fans
Gathered to watch him dance
Every match sold  out in advance
Black market tickets for a 1000 dollars
No seller all buyers
Crowds outside the stadium
Matching those inside
A very rare sight
His mere presence a delight
All his opponents feared the most
As he was always a darling of the crowds
Joke goes around that even the opponents family
Actually roots for Jimmy

This is what they want
This is what they paid for
Said this aloud to the crowd
Established his legacy
and with the fans his intimacy

Greatest fortnight in Tennis
Said most of the games players and  pundits
A wild card entry  given
Their most wise decision

Sailing into the Sunset
Time he will decide
On his own terms
His name is James Scott  Connors

His tagline which he underlines
That follows him at all times
Sums up his Attitude Charisma Fame and Game
IF I EVER ENTER THIS STADIUM IT IS GOING TO ROCK N ROLL
Ryan O'Leary Oct 2023
Yes, yet another replay

not on aggregate this

time and no substitutes.


There’s just been a foul

red cards have been

issued to 'the other team'


V.A.R. was turned off

purposely, the umpires

were all amputees.


But referee Biden is in no

doubt, despite having a

closed mind and myopia.




ps.

VAR = Visual Assist Ref
used in soccer when an
incident occurred but
the referee didn't see it.
Hi Brian
Hi Don
How are you going
What have you been up to
You see I have 5 hours before my next bus driving shift, so I decided to visit you
Were there any trouble makers on the bud
****** oathe there was
What are you watching
Raiders on the iPad and border security
On the television
I think border security should keep you in this country forever
It looks like I have to wait for my next life anyway
Yes you need to
But I am thinking of joining the police academy
Lock you in the psych ward and cuff him
Your not a cool kid
I am not a kid I am a man
Well, that is a matter of wrong or right
Did you hear black caviar died
I bet on him so many times
And won a tonne of money
Yes it is sad eh
Very sad
I am taking a few people to the Melbourne cup
This year and unless I am told otherwise I am going to play some of black caviars wins on the radio or I might hook a tv on the bus
It will be a great thing to do eh
Yes people will enjoy it
Raiders down 12-0 against cowboys
They should have won it in 2019
Well that is a matter for the umpires to decide
I have to go now
See ya
See you don

— The End —