Some Poems

The grand Art of Procrastination

 

It’s half past eight, time to create

Lie in my bed, thinking in my head.

Pick up my phone

Play a game all alone

Look on Facebook,

Photos are ace-look!

Read a blog, pin for a while

So many things that can make a girl smile

But you must write

You must fight

Against laziness and procrastination

It won’t write itself

Won’t climb up on a shelf

At the WhSmiths at the station.

A little kick up the butt a.k.a ‘the beginning’

Practice every day

In any little way

Something is better than nothing, we say.

Find the time, write a rhyme

Or a short funny ditty,

No one is judging or cares if it’s shitty.

That Paper

Money makes the world go round

That paper on the floor he found

Gives life, takes life

Without it is strife

He had nothing, he was nothing

But now....

So happy, delirious

‘A fifty- are you serious?!’

He doesn’t care now, he’s fearless.

Fly to the moon, he’s on a rocket

Skip in his step, dough in his pocket.

Weed or ciggs, a beer and food

Maybe a prossy, ‘Nah, I ain’t in the mood.’

While it lasts life’s a blast

Then way too soon it’s in the past

A memory of a life that could be

If he had that paper in his hand.

Life would be grand.

But in the blink of an eye it’s gone,

So fast.

The dream

A shiny castle, happily ever after

Your prince will come,

Bringing joy and laughter.

The rainbow sweeps across the sky, making dreams come true

All you have to do is wish

Someday he’ll come to you.

Bright lights

Flying kites

This is a civilized place, please- no fights!

3D glasses for the big screen,

dinner a movie and after ice cream

We’re living that dream, that hope and a prayer.

But-caution!-don’t scratch away at the top layer

The glamour, the money, good job and house

Just keep working hard for that money

Don’t question, don’t worry

The elation of Saturday- it’s here, grab a beer!

Slouch back in your chair, with crisps and no cares

Which young kid’s dream of fame

Will be shattered to pain

For the nation to see?

‘It’s not for the money

I love it, it’s me.

I want to be singin’, see my name in lights

Perform at Wembley.

*sobs it’s my dream, see.’

We laugh and we cry

‘Simon Cowell don’t deny

that young talent a chance,

He can sing, he can dance!’

But we don’t really care

It’s quite funny, actually.

We get technology, entertainment

A trade off,

For a small payment

In return for iphones and Kardashians

Is our silence, good behaviour

They’re doing us a favour!

They perform, we conform

That’s the deal.