Monthly Archives: February 2019

Off to his reward Cardinal Pell disgracefully goes, his pleas of innocence falling on deaf ears. Well, maybe his God may help him. Given considerable time.

Bad Faith.

Sorrowfully sitting in his cell
Is new inmate ex-Cardinal Pell,
Publicly his innocence he still professes,
Though to his God he quietly confesses,
‘Lord, it was only the occasional lap lapse;
Lord, hoping for celibacy is all well and good
But there’s little or nun of that in the priesthood.’

But from above, if He heard
There’s not been one little word,
He would have thought one-
The Father or His blessed son-
Or that ethereal wraith-
Would speak to a man of faith,
But yet, not one uplifting sound;
How loud Gods silence doth resound.

Now that Mr Pell has been solitarily confined
He has time to, unmolested, scour his mind,
One day is an eternity in this Hellish place,
Though being banged up in solitary is his saving grace,
George has gone from shooting the papal bull
To hearing a cardinals word is not indisputable,
And what he saw as an innocent Church affair
Is turning into his worst unfrocking nightmare.

 

©Obbverse

Premier League football, Leicester v Crystal Palace at the King Power stadium. Match report, written with a bit of bias and a ton of poetic licence. (Leicester 1, Palace 4)

Foxes In A Hole.

Off to Leicester Palace glumly go
Hoping to put up a gallant show,
Hoping to cling on for a goalless draw,
Roy’s boys can’t hope for much more.

But Palace take joy in the unexpected,
Bathshuayi sticks in a goal- deflected,
But its equaled by on-the-spot Evans
As Goalie Guaita swears at the heavens.

The Foxes smelt blood at the King Power,
Then the smell of success began to sour
When Wilf nipped past his poor defender-
Was he ripped into by Kasper the goal tender!

Then Jonny Evans was penalised
Hero to villain, transformation realised;
Keeper Kasper, not a ghost of a chance-
Another goal, another kick in Puels pants.

Then came the final twist of the tail,
For the Foxes manager, the final nail,
Zaha goes forth, another cruel Puel blow
And back to London Roy’s boys joyfully go.

 

Obbverse

Another icon of the sixties exits the stage. ‘Bye Peter Tork, you’ll live on, in re-runs.

Four, ‘Bye Two.

Ex-Monkee Peter Tork has gone and accompanied the Grim Reaper,
He’s hoping he can wangle an opening with St. Peter the Gatekeeper,
For old bandmates Dolenz and Nesmith this is a sad day,
Out on the unending Nostalgia Tour, still plugging away,
No chance of a trio now Pete’s on the last train to Clarkesville;
Now there’s only Micky and Mike left behind to half fill the bill.

(This came out a lot snarkier than intended, I don’t know why. Perhaps I’m a bit over too many groups/parts of groups/second cousins twice removed of groups still on the gravy train. (A sad day for Pete and fun music, in truth.)

The esteemed Ann Coulter calls the President an idiot! Some say that’s stating the obvious, but with Ann it’s coming from the Right place.

Right, At Last!

Ann Coulter says we have an idiot for a President,
Not many, if any Liberals knew she could be so prescient,
Quite an outre thing to say by the far too Right Ms. Coulter,
They may be forever foes but, for today, few Left can fault her.

 

©Obbverse

In this world of injustice, have faith, truth and justice sometimes shine out. And just as my belief was lapsing… Oh, too late.

Crying In The Chapel.

The hard harsh word came from on high, from the Pope,
Gods good servant McCarrick had lost his last hope,
The Pope didn’t hear his prayers or poor innocent pleas;
That pained him more than his poor old worn out knees.

Heaven knows, at 88 Theodore can ill-afford
To get unforgivably offside with his good Lord.

All those abuses of power, the secrets Ted held within
Now lay uncovered, obvious as Hell and ugly as sin,
The long serving Cardinal faces a humiliating defrocking,
No blessings for Ted in next year’s Vatican Christmas stocking.

At least when he’s loudly complaining in Purgatory
Many many priests will sympathise with his story.

 

©Obbverse

In times of Emergency desperate times require desperate measures, even if it means fiddling for funds for pis- piddling away on a wall.

Insecurities.

Donald is off on his latest low-down undertaking,
He needs money to fix a crisis, of his own making,
The Army of law’n’order fans of his border wall
Will now see Don pillaging Peter to pay Paul.

Building walls up was easy to say in an election run
But getting Mexico to pay is easier said that done,
He keeps calling about the millions of dollars they owe,
Not one ‘Hola’ has he got from the President of Mexico.

It matters not to Don that the funds are misappropriated
Or that real Democracy has been truly desecrated,
What do you expect when the megalomaniac you elect
Injudiciously, sadly, madly must get his vanity project?

 

©Obbverse

The focus was on the El Paso rally, where words are spoken, walls are promised and the media are mauled. All’s Right in the MAGA world.

Meet Beat The Press.

A cameraman was roughed up at the Trump rally today,
An overly-enthusiastic MAGA cap wearer got carried away,
The crowd bayed their approval, after push came to shove
And Donald beamed innocently down from the dais above.

The dense crowd now had to choose
How to deal with witnessing fake news;
The Right-minded find the solution lies
With closing the mind and the eyes.

When Fox and Dons words are the only one’s worth heeding
And the National Enquirer(!) is the only paper worth reading
The truth is simply as Pecker, Bannon and Don perceive it,
And if that sounds dumb and crass, you better believe it.

 

©Obbverse

A change up for Prince Phillip, as he gives the driving up. Or has Her Majesty put her foot down?

End Of The Road.

Poor Prince Phillip had ‘a bit of an accident,’
Most inconvenient, and unpleasant,
Rolling onto its side his trusty old Rover went
After Phil failed to give way to a peasant.

Phillip clambered out bloodied but unbowed,
It ill behooves one of Royal bearing
To proclaim his wife does own the bloody road…
Blame the shock for the shocking swearing.

To be still going on, at ninety-seven years of age
Is long enough, the patient police responder felt,
Now Phil regrets his forgetfulness and failing to engage
His legally binding safety belt.

Good queen Liz gives a sigh of relief
That her Prince Charming is still alive
And that Phil is ready to turn over a new leaf
As well as his licence to drive.

 

©Obbverse

The President gives another- GREAT- speech, but it’s a bit harder to speak before a house divided than at one of his Rapturous rallies.

Speak Of The…

Donald stood to give his State of the Union speech,
Deep into ‘Mericans hearts and minds he’d reach,
Mike Pence sat on Don’s right, beaming with pride,
And Nancy Pelosi off to his left, the thorn in his side,
Donald’s latest pain in the breech.

As Don talked of working as one, of bipartisanship
The stout lectern trembled in his white-knuckled grip,
And when he spoke of compromise, of give and take
Both lectern and Nancy inwardly groaned ‘gimmie a break,’
Then back to familiarity Don began to slip.

Praises to his great Presidency he  long and hubristically sung,
Every drop of fear about his precious border he wrung,
For eighty odd minutes he ploughed over once hallowed ground
But not Don nor his base heard that echoing empty vessel sound,
‘Nary a flicker of doubt ’bout that forked tongue.

 

©Obbverse

Another time, another place. Music and photos bring you right back, don’t they?

Frank, David, Gabrielle And Rose, Et Al.

In a forgotten corner, discarded in dusty disarray
Lies a vast array of CDs I treasured back in the day,
Stacks of musty relics that don’t spin me any more
Since I transferred my allegiance to the iTunes store.

The living room expanded by two more precious feet
As I boxed up and labelled the old, odd and obsolete,
There were a few whimsical purchases to our collection
And so Shaggy went the same sad way as One Direction.

As I put Kylie and Right Said Fred in their rightful place
An old photo slipped out from ‘tween a plastic case,
And there I saw the face of my father, gone so long,
And in a trice ‘Too Sexy’ became a trite sad little song.

And I recall our holiday to Yosemite and that stop at Sonora,
Dad, me ‘n’ the kids packed in the back of the black Explorer,
Pouring out of the air-conditioned cool into the discomfiting heat,
The pool at the Gold Lodge offered a cool welcoming retreat.

Oh, I saw Dad in the shadows, sheltering from the sun and spray
As silly-ass sons numbers two and three and kids splashed away,
I only wonder now, as I look back on the best of Dads vacations
If I saw a twinkle in the eye of the oldest of three generations?