Category Archives: blasphemy

Great minds sit and ponder whether the President is worthy of impeachment. Wonder no more. Though some might prefer the graphic version.

Mythical Creature.

Donald has learnt true friendship cannot be bought,
That life’s real heroes offer friends their full support,
When your pockets are deep but your arms are short
He’s heard cheap talk means a long time spent in court.

Don sees a Marvel, a universally acclaimed Great ‘Merican,
Not a Dark Knight under Bannon’s shadowy Master plan,
Lurking beneath the hollow words, the deep golden tan
Lies a shallow, guilt-edged thin-skinned wretch of a man.

Back in the Senate, where the battle for the truth is fought
Red eyed good ol’ boys pray they can believe the Fox report,
Lucky for Don, within his base, where reason is a last resort
It’s a case of case closed, to believe Don requires no thought.

 

©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.

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

I lost my keys, I was locked out of my car, I had to walk home, I kicked the gate open, I hurt my foot, I tripped up the steps, I stepped up to the door, I reached into my pocket-

The Bane Of My Life.

I’ve been perennially unlucky,
My life has been ill-starred.

I’ve tried remaining gamely plucky
When luck deals me a losing card.

Alas, alack my life is kinda sucky,
Sorry, this boy ain’t no bard.

I’ve no wish to sound mucky
But shit, life’s left me scarred.

If only my life was simply ducky,
But life holds me in low regard.

So, life continues to fuck me
And life is fucking hard.

 

©Obbverse

The year is all but shot, but this weird year has yet another twist in the tail. What a crazy world we live in. Let those who believe pray for a better one next year. Me? I can only shake my head in disbelief.

In The Arms Of Jesus, Texas Style.

In the God-fearing burg of White Settlement
Off to church the good and faithful go,
To bend the knee, to take the blessed sacrament,
To pray for the sinners in this world of woe.

Unfortunately there’s one in this day’s congregation
Whose devil’s work is not yet done,
The good flock are in for one hell of a Revelation
Finding one congregant puts his trust in a gun.

He flung aside his coat, took his gun, a shot rang out,
But this gunman wouldn’t go on a rampage,
The Lord might well protect ’em but there’s always doubt-
Texas pew-warmers pack heat in this day and age.

With half the damn congregation blazing away
The church was filled with cordite smoke,
The gunman was offed, off to his Judgement Day;
Sweet Lord above, what a dark cosmic joke.

Forget the good Lords lesson
But not your Smith and Wesson?
What can you say except
Christ Almighty, Jesus wept.

 

©Obbverse

A tiny fragment of Jesus’ manger finds its way back to Jerusalem. A minor miracle, perhaps? Well, stranger things have happened, I’ve been led to believe.

Grain Of Truth.

This shard of wood handed down by the pope
Is a holy relic, a God given gift of faith and hope,
A bit of the manger that had been sweet baby Jesus’ bed,
Or so the pontiff, crossing his fingers (and vice-versa) said.

Bits of True Cross have been sold for untold years,
An ongoing blessing for Vatican City Holy Souvenirs,
So this new True Crib many disbelievers may mock
But the line to see this chip goes off around the block.

With the patience of a saint in this long line I’ve stood,
As I’m a mere manual laborer, a humble hewer of wood
I can’t tell if this babe-in-the-wood story’s kosher or not
But I believe, within this hunk of wood lies a lot of rot.

 

©Obbverse

Losing faith in a tin potty mouthed God? Thoughts after Don went to the fight.

Revelation.

The mildest of gosh darned blasphemies
Once drove Right(eous) evangelists to their knees,
Now that they have accepted Trump as their Savior
They’ll have to accept his unpardonable behavior.

After Stormy they really needed Gods advice,
Should not an amorous adulterer pay a stiff price?
The true believers of Trump use that inspired line-
‘To err is human, but to forgive Don, divine.’

But have even the devoutest disciples begun
To question the veracity of their ill-Chosen one?
Good Lord, what would sweet Jesus do if he heard
Don tweet and repeat that Motherf***er of a word?

The President is known to speak forthrightly
But a drunken sailor could speak more politely,
Are a few ex-believers now feeling voters remorse
Hearing Dons rude attempts at social intercourse?

I’m of a Conservative mind,
In Gods words comfort I find,
But if I use my God given-brain
I can’t forgive Don the Profane.

Hallelujah, the scales have fallen from my eyes-
His words and (Miss) deeds serve only to demonise-
That Motherf***er word rings loud and clear,
I’m the victim of believing in a false profiteer.

Now Don’s tweets are down to another level,
He sounds less demi-god than foul mouthed devil,
It’s dispiriting to find Dons not a blessing, but perverse,
And hearing that Motherf***er is a God-awful curse.

 

©Obbverse