Monthly Archives: January 2020

Sitting, listening to a little music as the night edges towards another bright new day. A little bit of Love, a sweet song called ‘Live And Let Live’ inspired this little flapdoodle. Call it a flight of fantasy?

Ruffled Feathers.

There’s a cocky rooster next door,
Calls to me every morning at four,
Now, I’m told I need my beauty sleep,
So, rooster, crow again, what will you reap?

He sits upon the dividing fence,
His wake-up call causes me offence,
When I warn of the justice I’ll dispense
My neighbor shrugs with in-deaf-erence.

This dark morn, roused from a sleep so deep
I kept the promise I swore- loudly- I’d keep,
At last I’ll be sleeping sound once more
Thanks to one blast from the 12 bore.

 

©Obbverse.

In Christchurch we have had our troubles, Lord knows. Earthquakes, the odd bush fire, mosque attacks, all manner of tribulations. Ah, but one short decade on from the quakes, look at the progress we’ve made… Are making.

I Saw.

I recall it was nigh on ten years ago
When a mighty earthquake laid the old town low,
Even our Goth thick Cathedral fell to pieces-
Why, my wonder in Gods protection never ceases.

Rather than pass the collection plate
The good and faithful would call on AllState,
And lo, the parishioners put in their claim,
But no, AllState said ‘God acting up is to blame.’

Bishop and congregation began to pray-
Sometimes You work in a damn peculiar way-
If the Churches insurance claim gets denied
In times of trouble surely God should provide?

But Gods flock stand as a house divided,
What to do when the cheque is provided?
To replicate the folly they’ve always known?
To roll up their sleeves and roll away the stone?

Yea, for years lawyers and the devout
Have both fought about putting a hand out,
Short tempered preachers continue to rail,
Long winded lawyers find more devilish detail.

All the while the Cathedral sits there,
A tumble-down godforsaken rotten nightmare,
The font is awash in dandelions and nettles,
While factions moan, the ruin groans and settles.

Stray cats wander through the pews, row upon row,
Through broken stained glass a cold wind doth blow,
This habitat for cats gives one pause to think-
Gods house must harbour one Hell of a stink.

Finally, when the filthy lucre is disbursed
The Church Council thinks- (there’s always a first,)
After years of genuflectual prayerful thought
They’ll rebuild- pending a leeengthy builders report.

This rebuild requires more than a dab of mortar,
True, the riven roof does turn rain into holey water,
But when Gods congregation look up on high
It would be nice not to see Your sky. And stay dry.

Behind rusty chain link moulders a pile of rubble;
Is resurrecting it worth all this blessed time and trouble?
It would take a miracle and a fortune to be raised,
Or, God willing, another earthquake so it can be razed.

There’s funds been raised to re-raise the roof
But this lofty rebuild will still prove insurance proof,
Best bring in a wrecking ball and end the debate,
Drain the water, toss in the towel, write off the slate.

This sunny Sunday I struck off on a stroll uptown,
The sodden sight and site only served to bring me down,
Up high in yon rafters rafts of pigeons coo and sit,
Who wishes to be worshipful, knee deep in poo and shit?

 

 

©Obbverse

Some of us hope those old ‘someday my prince will come, a marriage made in heaven, happily ever after’ stories might just come true. This rarely happens to the average Joe though. Still, sometimes the fairy tale can happen. So I believe.

Daddy Of Them All.

She claimed she was oh-so-pure,
Maintained it was none but he she’d love,
Gave her cross-my-heart swear-to-god word,
Then her bitter tears cascaded to the ground
And she wailed for all she was worth.

So sweet, innocent, oh-so-demure,
Inculpable of what he was thinking of,
Still, that ol’ devil doubt uneasily stirred,
He looked up, but no answer there he found;
Can angels fall, down here on earth?

Sure, now  he might not be quite so sure,
But hadn’t his love sworn to heaven above?
Then when the magical miraculous event occurred
Rather than let the bad word get spread around
Father Joe and mother Mary announce: a virgin birth.

 

(I fear an apology is necessary,
So, sorry.
If I’ve offended I meant no harm,
So, so sorry.
Sweet Jesus, Joseph and Mary,
Christ knows I’m sorry.
I pray the third one’s the charm?)

 

©Obbverse.

Terry Jones, member of Monty Python, moves on. Sorry, ex member. The world of humor has lost a great one today.

Terry’s Pissed Off.

Farewell Mr Jones, know you’l be missed,
How well you filled the role of Mr Creosote,
Of Jesus’ Mum, of that rude nude organist,
Terry rarely, barely,played a bum note.

Now is the time to raise the wrist,
To drink to John Cleese’s fitting quote,
‘Four left to go on the Dead Parrot’s list.’
Goodbye Jokester, That’s all he wrote.

 

©Obbverse

A new year, a new start. Work from home! No set hours, no commute, no supervisors, no deadlines! There’s no downside, so who wouldn’t kick the door down when given the opportunity?

Give Me Strength.

Working from home is all very well
But my kitchen table looks like Hell,
There’s paperwork piled up by the ream-
I’m regretting being the only ‘I’ in my team.

Come daybreak I’d powered the lap-top up
Feeling less than perky till I poured a cup,
It was my first, it wouldn’t be the last,
MSGs from the boss scrolled in thick and fast.

Me and my lap-top, awash in caffeine,
A constant flow of Java Joe and Benzedrine,
I can’t get the boss off my ass nor my phone,
He don’t like my attitude, I don’t like his tone.

I worked grimly on all morn without a break,
My dutifulness all but proved a big mistake,
Call it a little inkling, call it something in my water
But I couldn’t cut being caught short any shorter.

By now I found it was nigh on high noon
And I was sick of dancing to my boss’s tune,
My actions might wind up getting me the boot
But when I flipped him off the phone went mute.

As I tossed some tasteless treat in the microwave
I mused I was over being the boss’s galley slave,
The boss is truly testing the patience of his Job guy
Thought I, turning my eye and microwave up on High.

I was looking forward to my lunch and quiet time
When I heard an unexpected door chime,
My stomach grumbled, I slapped hand to brow,
Who or what kind of fresh Hell is this now?

I opened the door and there they stood-
Three of God’s chosen, here spreading good,
Teeth as bright and white as Gods shining light
Here to tell this wrongdoer how He’ll put me right.

I’ve had (too) many theological conversations before
But never with one who’s slipped a foot in the door,
So even as my lack-lustre lunch was still revolving
Their patently creative argument began devolving.

My patience was wearing mighty thin
And verily, is not trespassing a sin?
So I asked for strength from above
And gave the door an almighty shove.

Still, what one uttered came as a shock-
I swear to God I was born in wedlock-
Brother, I’m sure you regret what you said
And wish you’d taken a vow of silence instead.

But it’s difficult to remain hushed
With both spirits and foot crushed,
And, oh Dear God, as for me-
Sorry about the blasphemy.

I do not foresee seeing that sorry lot back again,
I hope I’ve been blacklisted as bad, mad and profane,
Should they return on my door I’ll stick up my sign-
‘If your’e doing Gods work, go away, I’m doing mine.’

 

©Obbverse

The senate sits, ready to judge on Donald’s impeachment. Good senators! Impartial and unbiased, just like Mitch McConnell. He’s suuuch a good boy.

Lap Dog Of The Gods.

The impeachment criteria’s been met,
Pelosi’s put the damning paperwork through.

Mitch gets the message, with much regret,
Deep down in his heart, he knows its true.

So, will Don pay his debt?
Payment for many sins, so long overdue?

But Mitch is Don’s precious pet,
A dumbly loyal pooch, who could argue?

Mitch tells Don not to fret,
He’s gonna deal with Nancy Shrew.

There will be no cause for upset,
Not with Mitch’s rose-tinted view.

The House will lose, that’s a sure bet
And Democrats will be left feeling blue.

No praise from the Master will Mitch get,
Better silently sittin’ than gettin’ a kick or two.

Hang dog Mitch knows it’s wrong to aid and abet,
Don’t ask Don if that’s immoral, Don has no clue.

It’s democracy inaction, lets not forget,
Actions in the long-term Mitch will rue.

But Mitch has dealt with Don’s threat-
Standing up to the big dog wouldn’t do.

Mitch don’t want to go see the vet,
He’s got little enough to hold on t

 

 

©Obbverse

Getting to know the people in the neighborhood. Not your average Sesame Street meeting, one suspects. Do I see some recognition in the eyes of one or two souls I pass on the street? Nah, I must be imagining things. I keep walking.

Lost In The Cosmos.

Oh, where did you go to, my lady fair?,
Why, wherever I look why are you there?
In the library, outside Walgreen’s, everywhere,
You haunt my dreams, you poor living nightmare.

Just how did you develop that st-st-st-stutter?
Why do you shuffle along and ceaselessly mutter?
Why do those faded blue eyes peer into the gutter?
What shocking treatment made you our resident nutter?

No cast away dog-end ever escapes your gaze
Despite you wandering ’round in a perpetual daze,
Were you once smoking hot back in your glory days?
Did acid or pipe leave this smoldering testament of user pays?

She looks all too ready for a last trip in a black limousine.
You say I’m a cold callous prick, evil nasty and mean?
No, I am seeing all too clearly what might have been,
Counting my lucky stars and damn glad to be clean.

 

©Obbverse