I love to watch the Premier League football, I follow Crystal Palace… Yes, I know, I must be deluded… Today, I am beyond it though. (A cry of anger and frustration.)

Thor Point.

I’ve been sorely tried to hold Palace in high regard,
And yes, it’s been a tough week for the Palace guard,
This week Spurs stole the sole goal, given half a yard;
If only our half-hearted offense would try half as hard.

For another week we hear old Roy’s comments-
Yet more talk of tough luck, bad calls, sad laments,
Good old Roy has a lifetime of wisdom to dispense
But this eternal optimist is running out of patience.

Today saw Wilfred Zaha appear amongst the suits,
He’d put his feet up , but not put on the boots,
Wiv Wilf out of the game it’s down to Roy’s recruits-
From the back of the class up Sorloths hand shoots.

Yes, today would be Alexanders lucky day,
Good old Roy reluctantly let ‘Lex out to play,
And as luck would have it the ball came his way
But alas, lead-foot ‘Lex also has feet of clay.

Glory beckoned for Scandinavia’s best,
For with an eagle eye our Norseman’s been blessed,
He shot unerringly- straight at the ‘keepers chest!
I near had conniptions, Roy near a cardiac arrest.

Whey-faced Roy feels in his chest the knife slowly twist,
Roy, your choice is is cut ‘Lex loose, or cut your wrist;
Now Sloth’s hot off the bench, and on to the transfer list,
His missed shot at Spurs guarantees he’ll not be missed.

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At the eleventh hour we stop and remember, we stand in silence for a minute. Then life (and death) goes on.

Rolling Fields Of Red.

Today is the day the Great War ended,
It’s been one hundred years to the day,
On the bloody fields a peace descended,
Under those fields thousands molder away.

The world was back at war twenty years later,
More fathers and sons gone to eternal rest
One world war’s toll was bad, Two was greater,
One losing leader could not accept second best.

The most evolved on Gods earth are still learning,
Brave soldiers still march into fading memory,  
In fields the whole world over are old soldiers turning
At the thought of honour, glory and empty victory?

Isn’t it sad to find one of your ‘heroines’ has feet of clay, and a lazy eye. Oh, Wonder Woman, where are you now?

Not Of This World.

I foolishly half-believed Sarah Huckabee Sanders
Tried to rein in the raving of the High Commanders
Litany of half-truths, obfuscations lies and slanders.

Did I not see a flicker of humanity, a mere trace
As she leant on her lectern, wishing to be in another place
Far far away from this time, this space?

But it seems I gave sweet talkin’ Sarah too much credit,
When you see the ‘Acosta Accosting Intern’ Directors edit-
She didn’t just say Fake News, she liberally spread it.

Sad… now she can’t find the fortitude to recuse
Herself from trolling the depths of the Fake News
And wallowing in those Far-Right-Out-There views.

Now she’s gone from being a Fake News nay-sayer
To gleefully being the Dark Arts leading purveyor-
All she needs is an indecent video to become a player.

She could and should have taken a moments pause
And pondered the source and the effects and cause
Of relying on the fantasy films from Infowars.

Now Sarah Huckabee happily trots out her own lies,
She seen what she wants to see with her own eyes;
Press Secretary, Propagandist and Goebbels in disguise.

That Sarah is a stout and loyal trooper can’t be denied,
But look into those eyes now, and see, she’s dead inside;
Hope Huckabee Sanders is happy on the Dark Side,

Democracy in traction.

Mid-term Report.

Well, the good people have spoken,
Unsurprisingly in a voice discordant and broken.

And what did the good people decide?
Damn near everyone voted, to widen the divide.

Some may feel their House is now in order
But the Senate’s reach is now even broader.

Anyone hoping for less hate and more reasoned debate
Now will find both sides reduced to a hopeless stalemate.
GREAT. 

Straight outta the mid-terms. Battlin’ Jeff Sessions, straight out the door.

Jeff Joins The Jobless.

Jeff has gone and done as as Don requested,
His resignation letter Sessions dutifully tends,
He’s done and gone as Don’s looong suggested,
He’s fucked off  farewelled all his old friends.

Donald wanted to be protected, not arrested
And who knows what Bob Mueller intends?
Jeff’s a commodity in whom Don invested
So Jeff’s unjustifiable recusal truly offends.

Ah yes, the joys of travel. Off to strange lands, to see culture at its best. (Inspired by a blog on Bonnywood Manor/Wordpress- Present Tense-#9 (and our trip to Old Scotland that had a few similarities.)

A Breath Of Fresh Air.

It was wonderful to depart the plane in Spain
After a flight at the height of the tourist season,
Yes, it seems I’ve picked up the travel bug again-
Ten hours of recirculated air would be the reason.

I thought all would be well once at the hotel
But upon arrival, well, sadly I was not,
So I laid my heavy head on the pillow a spell
Awaking to find no piffling sniffle, this was snot.

No, no not for me a sick bed holiday,
I was dying to see the Medieval sites,
Down the cobbled streets I made my sway,
To climb to the castles rarefied heights.

Thus we began the now-historic climb;
Those first steps were hewn by a craftsman;
Higher up steps were taken to cut the time,
Carved by ‘prentice or cut-price artisan.

No miss-step was quite the same,
Some a stretch, some one leapt up;
Any stonemason worthy of the name
Surely should’ve looked, then stepped up?

At every switchback, at every frikkin’ fork
I’d clutch my ribs and cough and blow,
Down every declivity I’d hack and hawk.
My apologies and sympathies to those below.

But I’d climb my Everest of a mountain
Though snot ran in an unending stream,
At a thousand steps and still countin’
It became more nightmare than tourists dream.

Ah, but when one steps upon the crest-
Oh, the view is quite breath-taking,
I clasped my hands to my breast-
It’s a heart attack in the making.

Halloween night, then Guy Fawkes night, so close together. From Cherry Blow-pops to Cherry Bombs in a matter of days.

Rocket Fizz.

Halloweens been done-
That hit the sweet spot,
We had Starbursts by the tonne,
But we ate the lot.

Now, for a real barrel of fun
Give Guy Fawkes night a shot,
His idea was an incendiary one
But that poor Guy lost the plot.