Poppies beget poppies poem for the day

It's National Poppy-washing day!
Now Poppy-wash your sins away!
Remember that the greatest sin
Was stupid fuckers joining in

Perhaps to you it looks absurd
The hordes that ran to join the herd
And you at least are not a sheep
But only for the fallen weep

And how they suffered! How you're sad!
And how you're free! And how you're glad!
And how you advertise such Grace
With stupid bloody poppy face

And while you're joining in it's true
As monkey see so monkey do
Remember that they died that you
May one day be a poppy too.

Pome for the election

Donald! Donald! tyger bright
Panther prowling through the night
What infernal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful oratory?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt thy burka melted eyes?
On what whims dare he aspire?
What the voter seize the fire?

In the land of sanguine woe -
Could forge the plastic GI Joe
Could fetch it from the furnace deep
And in their horrid ribs dare steep
And keep or worse Guantanamo?

In what clay & in what mould
Were their eyes of fury roll'd?
And what anvil, what black art
Could twist the advertisers heart
What the ghost? & what the flea?
Dare paint thy false democracy?

And what hammer? And what chain?
Could fire the forests of thy brain?
And when thy heart began to beat
What dread hands! on what dread meat!

When the stars threw down their spears
And watered Clinton's Joker tears
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the clown make thee?

Donald! Donald! tyger bright
Panther prowling through the night
What infernal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful oratory?

Poem for the day

REJ:- Wel, despite moving three times, Idris, my facebook friend, has somehow tracked me down again, and is gibbering at the bottom of the stairs, exuding an olfactory taint that believe you me isn't it, you don't want me to transcribe into smellytext. What cans have happened? - did you like that? - anyway, if I know anything at all, he won't stop blubbing about the allthatglisters gold of Mr. Carlsberg until I type out his latest vomit. Black tears of Death my arse, you're pissed 'ychan! -

Hush! It's time for lessons children
Mighty are the works of man!
Glory to the black-veined junkie
Sleeping over Aberfan

Dream the dark gold piling higher
Such twould make the mountains cry
Stream the valleys blackest choir
Little diamonds in the sky

Can you hear the siren Angels?
Softly in the twinkling dome?
Or has dark enrichment crushed you?
None to take the lessons home.



REJ:- Wel, what?.....How do I know if I like it? - It hasn't got a title.....what's it about? Go and cry somewhere else. I'll make you an appointment with the Danish court...

Commercial Break

Fantastic don't-work-from-home opportunity!!! It's official. Britain is open for sale, and everything must go! Again! Low interest rates getting you down? Why not make your money work for you? Instead of you working. What could be less parasitic? How does net £30bn for £0bn sound? Confuscioused? Too good to be true? Think again. This is just one of the many stunning often-to-be-repeated deals available!

Perhaps you are from a backward country, that hasn't progressed to democracy. Don't worry - local buy-britain-to-let mortgage agent, Mother Theresa May, has the backing of almost 200 human voting-persons! These low, low prices won't last once our children see the bill, so hurry now and buy yourself some never-never-shall-be-slaves at the auction of the century! Guaranteed returns! (arranged on the slaves behalf on the never never while they watch bakery shows).

Laugh as they wave flags and watch timelessly piss-drivel war films, while all the time YOU own them! Brexit fears? Fear not! money is invisible, and there's no border any more! Watch as your money freemovement immigrates in.....then taxfreemovement emigrates out, many times over!

Can you say 'investment' with a straight face? Perhaps you are a Russian mafiosi who hasn't forgotten to send Putin a christmas card. Fancy a cup of tea? Why not buy London? Now that's capital control! Careful! - not that tea! Maybe you are an Arab, who dreams of killing Jews. Why not practise by killing Arabs first? You'll need some kit for that, and Prince Andrew can arrange everything. Or maybe you are a nice-and-shiny multinational, believing your own adverts. Tax getting you down? How does minus tax sound?....etc ad nauseum....


....It's cold.....cold, dark and wet, and I'm scared.....I'm scared too.....If I don't make it.....don't say that....we'll get through....somehow.....you know it's funny, I used to love the smell of the sea, and the sound of the......sh!.....not now.....not now......OK let's go! Remember why we're here. It will all be worthwhile if after 7 decades of growth our grandchildren are begging at food banks....

Poem for the day

REJ:- Bore da. eto. etc. Wel, in the immortal words of that grocer's daughter, Rejoice! for Idris has blessed us again with a metrical offering that could surely melt the face of Simon Weston, and well-meaning penguin rescuers everywhere. Unfortunately, most of Simon's butties committed suicide after victory, and couldn't be with us to celebrate the necrotic banshee's incontinent descent into whimpering terror. But are there ever underlying economic causes of conflict? It's a transparently trivial question. But let's pretend it isn't, as Idris ap whoeverhewas has found a copy of Brewer's phrase and fable, and is pretending to have studied the classics like our new foreign secretary...


In the bosom of the Nile
With an enigmatic smile
Beckoned Pharoah's unseen hand
Promising the Promised Land

Pyramids of Golden Grain
Threshed and flailed the mark of Cain
Written red in Giza's womb
Built upon the living tomb

Plague upon included middle!
Sphinx within, without the riddle
Melting pot or boiling kettle?
Far the strains of Nero's fiddle
Poison asp of Cleopatra
Bit the currency made flesh
Grew the many-headed hydra
Wove the sticky spider's mesh
Drew the thread of Theseus closer
Then the closer mirror saw!
Not the Promised Land of Moses
But the mighty Minotaur!

Furies rent the plates tectonic
Weighted coin of binary
As the double-headed Janus
Counterfeit the lock and key
Sharply grew the wealth of nations
Piled upon the nation's poor
High upon the needle Caesar
Looked abroad to conquer more
Mined the flesh of Atlas buckling
From the bowels of Hades forge
Rose the man of iron chuckling
Lava smile of Satan! Gorge!

Hush! the night stalk hiding reaper
Silent glides amongst the corn
And the granary grows steeper
Hoards in vain for life reborn

All the while the eye was staring
Lonely on the monster isle
Twixt the hemispheres cross-sharing
Crying at the Furies bile

East meets West in eye of Cyclops
See the diamond beams divine!
Lift the clouded veil of Isis
Cut the gems eternal shine!

By the geometry of Euclid
Shape the world the Prophet saw
Tame the seasons, flood the delta!
Eden, Rise! on Israel's shore!


REJ:- So that's what you did when you were 'writing your cv' is it? I know! I know! Don't tell me! - you're going to do it properly later -

IaW:- Macroeconomics ends with the opening of the dam with the global lever.

Legend of the holy zombie homeopathic water diviner of Eglwyswrw Pome for the day

Homeopathic water diviner, Ifor ap download, was convinced his hands held the memory of an invisible twig. Eager to demonstrate his miraculous ability to find water in Wales, he marched up and down the street of Eglwyswrw, a spring in his step, arms held out like a boxingkangarooaftertherack, and gurning and groaning like a constipated zombie. Such was the level of concentration.

It turned out to be arthritis, which he couldn't have, as he had already been not-taking the strongest underdose unavailable, and thus, 100% cured-in-advance of all the things he had never not-medicated for, he gamely strode on, only to trip and fall face down in an Alzheimer's puddle - containing oxygen, but unfortunately not the compatible memory of it.

His acupuncture air holes failed and he sadly drowned. But, as logic would have it, his voodoo doll sprang into life, and to this very day walks the street of Eglwyswrw gibbering vacuous nonsense to all who would hear the 'Good News', like an over tumble-dried shrunken Jesus teddy stigmata walking pin-cushion of inanity.

Here is his pome, shaken not stirred:-


                            HOMEOPATHY
                               PHMEHYATO
                             TEHPHMOY
                               MHHEOYP
                              OYPMHE
                                   POMYE
                                     EYOP
                                    YOE
                                    OY
                                       Y
                                     

*Warning!* The next verse is even more powerful and should be read out of the reach of children stored at room temperature:-

The Rubaiyat of Idris until he got bored

REJ:- Are you bored yet? -

Idris:- No -

REJ:- Dammo -

Idris:-

Wake! The Golden Prophet of the skies
Has yawned and closed a billion blinking eyes
The ashen moon its sickle-harvest done
As night-owl flown in fright from lovers' sighs

The Phoenix tore a feather from the Sun
And master fletcher Time His arrow won
Through hourglass curves the golden bow let fly
And melting now and then the wax begun

Upon a marble 'cross the blanket high
In circles straight around the curving sky
The figures waxed upon the setting stage
And moulded lines of thought to wonder why

Said one 'My friends 'tis clear how this must be
The stage and play was set for such as we
My legs the perfect length to reach the ground,
The ground the perfect length to reach the sea'

Another drunk in love with Art opined
'I see the hand of genius behind
The palette mixed to wholly fill the view
Such perfect feasts on which my eyes have dined'

A third was cut to play as Newton's fool
And thought he saw the light-show heaven's rule
'By dot to dot I draw upon the sky
And line by line draws back the winding spool'

REJ:- How about now? -

Idris:- Not yet -

But Fate and Fortune for the record breaks
As Destiny with light for dicing shakes
Upon the wheel the marble drops to rest
And one by one the House wins back the stakes

'Tis all a shadow show of light and dark
With candles flickering smooth to make the Ark
And creatures conjured on a circling sea
A faery play upon a faery park

The conjurer is hid in cloak of fire
Around the magic lantern of desire
The candle smooth projecting from within
The smoke and glass-reflecting rising higher

Old Omar on the page of Samarkand
In silk words robed by fair Fitzgerald's hand
In glory bathed among the naked threads
Unwoven then rewove in candle heads

The minarets called djinn to holy prayer
By magic lamp in mosaic written there
And lit the marble mirror chandelier
The metaphor enow for life of air

For magic words magician be desired
But magic never has a wand required
And genie prayer for metaphysics true
Will answer physics never need inspired

The writer having plucked the Phoenix quill
With golden pen may write the world at will
True scripture makes one glad to Timeless die
The Sentence in four letters coloured still

REJ:- If you're bored, change the rhyme scheme -

Idris:-

What wouldst thou write, O candle god
Upon a newborn page?
What wouldst thou write, as Sentence melts
And actors merge with stage?
What wouldst thou will, the Fire of Life
Still burns, thy will be done!
- The Phoenix cries quicksilver tears
Upon the setting Sun -
What willst thou true, immortal flame?
Of heaven or of hell
The Time is nigh, the arrow flies!
To strike the quivering knell
What - *clunk!* *Ooof!* -

REJ:- Sioned! Idris has been bored again! On the sofa -

Sioned:- Put him out with the recycling -

REJ:- But it's not bin day 'til -

Sioned:- I meant the poem.