Two fine Tampa citizens start callin’ each other names on Facebook and the war of words between Brian and Alex gets out of hand. Well, duh, who’d have thunk it? Ain’t it great a handgun is right at hand to smooth over these differences of opinion?

Two Men Of The Highest Calibre.

There’s many points of view in politics,
Left and Right sure produce a toxic mix,
Two protagonists began to write on Facebook
And what an ugly wrong turn that argument took.

First came the finger pointing, then an invitation
To take up fisticuffs and forgo learned conversation;
One overwrought ‘gent’ felt such outrage and distress
To drive his point home he even drove to his foes address!

But he blew his argument to bits, so to speak
By putting a slug clear through his enemy’s cheek,
Haven’t Florida Facebook posts sadly come to a pretty pass
When two hot heads must prove who is the biggest bloody ass?

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The Don believes you need a photo ID to purchase groceries! It’s the thinking behind this train of thought is the worrying thing. Extremely unsettling, in an historical sense.

Pry Now, Pay Later.

The President has been known to push reason a little far,
But his idea for a proof of purchase ID is beyond bizarre,
With every single purchase, in every dime store
Flashing the cash won’t be enough anymore;
Don wants you to have papers on you to show who you are.

Will Walmart put you up agin the wall if you’ve no ID card?
Will the cashier at Target treat you like a border guard?
If Donald can only bend Congress to his peculiar cant
Every ‘Merican businesses business will be to be vigilant.
Still, a few survive who hope Dons plan remains ill-starred…

Those who recall with vividity loved faces long since since passed,
Who knew those ‘innocent’ ID papers meant your fate was cast,
Back in the day when a Star of David upon your sleeve
Meant only a painful few would be left to eternally grieve.
And, now to pray that even Don can learn from the past.

Getting wet and wild on your holiday/honeymoon. A bit of a cautionary tale.

Taken, With A Dose Of Salt.

The summer sun was dazzling bright,
The sea a’sparkling in the sunlight,
Not one solitary cooling cloud in sight
For honeymooners on the Great Australian Bight.

Up on deck after a hot ardourous night
Still this couple are feeling set to ignite,
Where, where to escape 100-degrees Fahrenheit?
The sea offers a cool promise of respite.

Skinny dipping is a sheer naked delight,
The seas ebb and flow sure to primordially excite,
But bare bodies are also sure to whet the appetite
Of Tiger, Tigers, Basking, a bloody Great White.

Had your fill of FAKE News? Well, remember, you heard it here First.

Stand up Comic.

Funnily I never thought the President was a funny ha ha bloke
But now the laugh’s on me, heh heh, and, seriously, l get the joke,
Hee hee, he’s hysterical, he changes history with one Master stroke-
He gathers the gullible, has a giggle to himself, then simply says ‘I misspoke.’

Donny and Vladimir, sitting in Helsinki, this spells the end of D e m o c r a c y. Or, put another way, the first rule about Liars Club is there is no Liars Club. (But there is.)

Vlad To The Bone. (Apologies to George Thorogood.)

When two princes amongst men met up in Helsinki
Both promised, vowed, swore a swear with extended pinky
To put aside that old veil of dark secrecy, so deep, black and inky;
If Vlad’s pants look uncomfortably hot, don’t Dons seem a whiff stinky?

In a most comradely fashion the two privately conversed,
When they emerged into the light, all dark clouds dispersed,
Donald smiling dimly,Vladimir’s smile smug, satisfied, fit to burst,
How did Vlad contrive to convince Don to put ‘Meric- err… Russia First?

Welcome to my nightmare. A touch of inspiration from reading the blog of a supply teacher undergoing a tortuous re-education. Someone who is also a fan of Kings ‘The Stand.’ So I thought I’d weave the strands together for a bit of fun.

Driven To Distraction.

I wake up in the morning, dark, rise with the friggin’ lark,
I clutch the coffee cup, wait for the night terrors to pass,
Fire up the Fiesta, sigh, hand reluctant to shift out of Park
Into Drive to drive on autopilot to an unteachable first class.

On arrival I take a deep breath, a Diazepam, then two more
Before bravely walking into my recurring real-life horror story,
Fighting the sea of indifference shuffling down the corridor;
Cell-centred blank eyed zombies, brainless but ambulatory.

At lunch I’ve no taste for my sandwich, I take two Tums instead,
My faith in talking sense sense to foolish minds continues to unravel
Despite spending my lunch communing with the arch Deputy Head,
I told her of her schools flaws, she told me to fu– about sex and travel.

So, advice taken, I’m off to the Fiesta and off I fu– off home I go;
A little listening to a audiobook might restore my equanimity,
As the strains of Stephen Kings ‘The Stand’ ooze from the stereo
I think I might share his dim view on some things like, oh, inhumanity?

The soccer/football World Cup, England, the semi-finals, and finally, a reason to believe?

Getting The Cross In.

It was months and months of Sundays back I began to doubt
The words Father McEvedy would by rote routinely spout,
But this July St George has never seen anyone so devout,
For it feels the world is about to end
When your World Cup hopes depend
On England miraculously winning a penalty shoot-out.

So many years as a lapsed Catholic and an avowed atheist,
The cold comfort of the confessional, all too easy to resist,
Yet I’m rattling the old rosary, praying, hoping for an assist,
Perhaps He might help out Southgates squad-
Argentina don’t need a helping hand from God,
Good Lord, what better reason to prove You exist?