Monthly Archives: August 2020

Going write off. The latest merry message in the old Email has suggested a writing sabbatical is in order. Funnily enough, I agree.

Well Run Dry.

I used to thrill
To raise the quill,
Words gambolled on and on;
I guess that thrill is gone.

Dyspraxic digits clubbed the keyboard,
Typos and good grammar ignored,
Ideas tumbled happily from the mind
As fingers fumbled, sentences behind.

I’d thought I had something to say,
An amusing pun, bandy some wordplay,
Double entendres, two-fingered typed fun,
Now it’s two thumbs down for this tragic one.

Joie de vivre weighs heavy in my head,
Even my black humour is all but dead,
Trying to dredge up some light flight of fancy
Would mean a lift of spirit worthy of necromancy.

To raise the odd smile was my glad intent,
Sad, all my good humour’s gone off and went,
Perhaps it’s for the best to to stay quietly depressed?
So I’ll do as weary old readers have and give it a rest.

(Just a touch of burn-out showing? Obviously. Overtly melodramatic? Yep. Self-pitying? Yessiree Bob. Maudlin? Yes indeedy.  So, time for a little time out? Fuck yes.)

©Obbverse

Once you’ve finally managed to dredge your team up to the Premier League in English football the hard work isn’t over, it’s only just beginning. Along with the glory comes a scant few ups, quite a few more downs, plus another almost certain pitfall- just ask any committed West Bromwich Albion fan.

Temporarily Promoted.

That West Bromwich Albion crowd are all celebrating again,
There’ll be cheers and beers being hurled in Halfords Lane,
Navy and white scarves will abound around Old Birmingham town,
At least till next May when, historically they’re bound to go down.

The Albion are one of those teams that drive loyal fans to drink,
All season long, nailed to the table bottom or clinging on the brink,
The Baggies, back in in their regulation spot, flirting with relegation-
At least of late poor Aston Villa fans can sympathise with that situation.

Still, congratulations! on becoming Birminghams second best,
Now two bum *Brum fans can still share in one common interest,
For one season the twain are Premier League teams, and so sitting pretty,
Both loving lording it over mutually loathed Wolves and Birmingham City.

*Appellation the lucky locals use for Birmingham.

©Obbverse

Neil Young sues Trump over use of his music at Don’s fist-pumping rabble-rousing rallys. Good luck on getting Don to hear anything about that, Neil.

A Kick To The Chorus.

Once again Mr Trump’s re-election campaign
Is giving Neil Young cause to legally complain,
Neil’s getting grumpy that his copyrighted songs
Are being illegally played to promote Don’s wrongs.

Shouldn’t one of Don’s army of attorneys kindly explain
To Don that old Young’s tunes ain’t in the public domain?
All the plaintiff Neil wishes is for Don to cease and desist
From ripping his songs off and on to Don’s lousy party list.

The Rolling Stones have led the chorus of complaints, in vain,
‘You can’t always get what you want’ remains Trump’s refrain,
Don, use Ted Nugent’s crap, Teddy loves you, or ask Kanye West-
No, mebbe not, the colourful Kanye mightn’t pass Don’s litmus test.

Will Donald simply turn his back on all noisy complaints again?
Treat true legitimate protests with his usual dismissive disdain?
Well, the Rolling Stones have screamed at Don to stop for years-
It appears there isn’t a great deal resonating between dumb ears.

 

©Obbverse

President Trump seeks answers to the question HE poses about his own personality? Well, he did ask.

Pity Party At Egos Anonymous.

Sometimes when you wake up feeling sad and blue
On a rare blue moon when doubt bedevils even you,
When the wife’s heart feels cold, the future looks bleak
It’s time to lay your burden down and stand up and speak.

Don is prepared to bare his very soul- if he must,
Though heeding others opinion fills him with disgust.

‘Hello, my name is Donald and I’m a Selfish Neurotic,
Though those in my party prefer the term ‘quixotic,’
And now, as I think back on four hard fraught years
Thinking of a future past November brings me to tears.’

‘Why, suddenly no-one wants to be my Bestie?
Now all my good ol’ boys and Yes-men detest me.’

It’s a rare privilege seeing this side of Donald J. Trump,
In many a throat there his mawkish tale raises a lump,
There he stands, a broken man with his token friends
Ever deeper into self-pitying he maudlinly descends.

‘So, everybody dislikes me because of my personality?’
For once everyone freely agrees with Don, like, totally.