Category Archives: Regret

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.

Newly married, whole life ahead of the two of you, and then its all gone. Won’t someone tell him where he went wrong?

Misery Loves Company.

What I cannot abide
Is whatever spuriosities I spout
You won’t take my side-
My righteous words I never doubt.

I don’t roughly ride
Over the husbandly improvements you tout,
I hide my wounded pride
Behind folded arms and surly pout.

Lord knows I’ve tried
Laughing off all you witter about,
If you’d only shut up I’d
Have no need to shout.

‘Goodbye’ said my bride,
She cried ‘it’s over, I’m out,’
…Now it’s so lonesome inside
My strong silent empty redoubt.

©Obbverse.

Every time I think I’ve met the perfect woman some tiny little flaw seems to ruin my hopes of bliss. I can’t imagine why.

Everybody’s Best Bud.

After being rudely ejected from the Nags Head
I wandered up to the Star’s bar and woozily said
‘Barkeep, I’d like a shot of Johnny Walker Black-
Better bring the bottle, save you coming back.’

‘Hey, I’ll sip here quietly, leant against the wall,
Hey, you won’t even know I’m here till last call,
Good old Johnny is company enough for me,
He’s all I’ll need to help erase her memory.’

She wanted the ‘security’ marriage brings,
My freedom in exchange for two cheap rings,
My fancy-free days have come at quite a cost,
She showed me her door, told me to get lost.

Could she dump me so easily out of her apartment?
Forgetting the week I once chipped in with the rent?
The time I selflessly cleaned out the beer refrigerator?
So now she says I’m a drunken loser and see ya later?

She heaved me out, left me with no place to go,
Barkeep, I hardly had a chance to grab a momento,
I took her cookie jar, to remind me of the good times,
I swear it’s mine it’s chock-full of hard-sworn dimes.

Finally everyone but the barkeep and I had moved on,
The time was nigh, even my friend John had gone,
Then for the second time today I was shown the door-
Barkeep, ain’t no hospitality in your business anymore.

Twice this day this bum’s been kicked to the street,
This time by a size fourteen foot direct to my seat,
I tumbled to the pavement, my head began to spin
Staggered he could toss me out in the state I was in.

Another one to add to the list of ‘you’re barred’ bars
It felt fitting to lay there, alone, looking up at the stars
As mien host locked up and pulled down the shutters;
Yet another night, sleeping tight in the Gorbals gutters.

(The Gorbals is  a less-than-salubrious part of peaceful bonny Glasgow town.)

 

©Obbverse

On April 25 Anzac Day dawns and it’s time to recall all those noble young lives sacrificed by warmongering old bastards. Peace is hard to come by.

Let’s Not Forget.

The great world powers had a Great big war,
The survivors prayed ‘one Big One, to end ’em all,’
But if One was great, let’s power up one more;
So, twice the names tacked up on the memorial wall.

As dying autumn leaves fall soft from the bough
Let’s remember old comrades who dutifully fought,
Ev’ry year leaves less to sadly gather in the here and now,
To recollect the fresh faced fallen, lives cut cruelly short.

In some sodding graveyard in some far-off land
In lush spring green fields flecked with poppy red
Soldiers untold lie silent while white crosses stand,
One war or Two, there’s no accounting for the dead.

From heights Olympian to the hum drum. I read a frazzled woman’s blog, I heard her frustration and imagined her next step. (Too much time on my scrubbed clean covid and germ-free hands, I imagine.)

Left In The Dust.

At school I’d daydream through the long boring classes,
Heroic tales of Hera and Hercules, so the lesson passes.

Exchanging today’s tedium’s for yesterday’s mythic stories,
Tall tales of ancient battles, of Achilles and Paris’s vain glories.

These days I’ve a Hades of a life, dragging the kids out of bed,
Getting ’em washed and fresh-faced and dressed and fed.

No honeyed milk nor sweet ambrosia bless this houses breakfast table,
Three growing boys, fling in food fights and I’m left an Augean stable.

Packed lunches, back packs and pack ’em in the Minivan;
Every morning this Moms labors become more Herculean.

Whatever happened to those long lost schoolgirl’s dreams?
Romantic fantasies of Helen of Troy, of a thousand triremes?

…Waiting at the red light, back to the past I absently wander
Till horns and a green light remind me my Odyssey’s a Honda.

The journey to school has all the usual boystrous push and shove,
A display of more pokes pinches and punches than brotherly love.

Spilling out the sliding door, off with nary a backward glance,
I’m rueing too many wasted days- and three nights of romance.

The Greek God I thought loved me eternally now no longer cares,
I naively married a Narcissus interested in his silly human affairs.

This ever-smiling mother, his secondary lover is going to disappear,
There is a Troy, a Carthage, Athens, Paris, Texas- anywhere but here.

 

Obbverse

Any time is a good time to go on holiday, to travel, explore new horizons, enjoy the pleasures of warm and close companionships. Up until very recently, anyway.

I was sick of works demands,
I wished to see some idle hands,
So I booked myself a sea cruise,
Well, what did I have to lose?

A life out on the ocean wave,
A licence to frolic and misbehave,
To stroll in Speedos with tanned chest,
Pull in the gut, leave the lasses impressed.

To what depravities I sunk,
Every night in a new bunk,
My lustful life was never finer-
I love life on an ocean liner.

But come one fine morning I awoke
Feeling like when I used to smoke,
But the ships Doc’s there for such ills-
Plus, I needed more lil’ blue pills.

The Doc’s voice took on a worried note
As he peered down my ticklish throat,
And as we approached American waters
I found I was confined to my quarters.

No more late-night fun and games,
No more early morning walk of shames,
Into my teeny tiny cabin I was shown
To spend a fortnight all on my own.

I’ve got a Gideons bible and a battered paperback,
Grand Cruise brochures litter the magazine rack,
Free Living and Disney channels are all very nice
But I wish they’d arrange Wi-Fi for my De-Vice.

I don’t mind being forcibly detained,
I realise a nasty virus must be contained,
The Cap’ns bound to put in protective measures
He doesn’t care a toss about my fleshly pleasures.

Here we’re moored, off San Francisco Bay,
And what to do to while the time away?
It’s ten more days till I’m back on deck,
Idle hands mean I’ll be a physical wreck.

 

©Obbverse

 

What’s happening to the Lucky Country? Bushfires, shark attacks, oil and water drying up- and now this. Holden bites the dust. Crikey!

With A Whimper.

It all started up down at Fishermens Bend
We had a Genuine partnership, my Special friend,
Aw jeez, now yer dumping me, it’s journeys end?
Just like a busted wheel my heart cain’t mend.

Don’t ya remember when days were golden,
Back then when we were flush, the money rolled in?
We ran the hottest flamin’ dealership for Holden,
Now its been a cold day since a punter strolled in.

It was just a day after Valentine’s Day
I read my ‘Dear John’ letter with dismay,
My true love was packin’ up, goin’ away?
What a grievously monstrous thing to say.

My fingers slackened, as did my jaw,
The letter fluttered to the workshop floor,
Fair dinkum, my darlin’s duckin’ out the door?
I reached for some comfort, bottom drawer.

I took a drink, drank deep and long-
When the spirit’s weak, make it strong,
I wondered maudlinly ‘what went wrong?’
Then stumbled out to dribble by the billabong.

Nah, no more will the limping  roaring lion roam,
Flashing down the streets with teeth of chrome,
General Motors lit up them tyres, they’re flying home,
No last slow dignified ride back in the black Brougham.

Cobber, mate, I’m not watcha call a sensitive dude,
My oath, I’ve been called rude and f- far worse, crude,
But this  I can say with a high degree of verisimilitude
Unlike his bottle this guy’s gettin’ well and truly screwed.

 

Ps: For what its worth, minor inspiration  ‘Heart Like A Wheel’ Kate and Anna McGarigle and ‘The Newcastle Song’ Bob Hudson.

 

©Obbverse

What did you do on Valentine’s Day? Or on Valentine’s night? Flowers just might not cut it or quite do the trick on this occasion.

Be My Valentine.

I have my love and she has mine,
She tells me of her love, deep and true,
How rare ’tis for two hearts to intertwine,
Oh, my sweet love, I give my heart to you.

I brought her red roses on Valentine’s Day,
I thought to lay them on her sweet bed,
Oh, but why is she not at work but at play?
I crushed those roses till my hands ran red.

So, my love, give me back my broken heart,
You took my trust, my love, you lay and lied,
Outside the door I hear the hopeless pleading start,
When you break it down you find we’re all dead inside.

 

PS: The car radio was crassly playing ‘Dear Doctor’- on Valentine’s Day!- and the lines ‘Help me Dear Doctor, I’m damaged, there’s a pain where there once was a heart,’ sounded ghastlily inspirational.

 

©Obbverse

Brexit is no longer a piddling little speck on the horizon. And yet a feeling of holiday atmosphere lingers over the brave little islanders as they dip a toe into the chill waters of the English channel. Way out there on the beach.

Going Swimmingly.

Not overly long ago life was so grand
‘Ere in England’s green and pleasant land,
From ships sterns the standard proudly flew-
By George, by Jingo, we ruled the seas so blue.

Welcomed in at any unspoilt port of call
Cook’s motley crew set in for the long haul.

Great Britain could justly claim
That they truly earned the name,
And so a mighty empire was built-
Worth every bit of patriotic blood spilt.

Cast a look at any old maritime map,
Rubber, oil, maple syrup- there to tap.

How swift Great Britain’s influence spread,
Half the world was washed in Rich Empire Red,
In far flung lands did the good folk feel enriched
Seeing their flag, ‘neath a Union Jack, newly stitched?

Eventually, if you keep on taking from a friend
All things- goods, oil, sweet deals- come to an end.

Her Majesty’s once Great Navy now looks half rate,
Time and tide have taken toll on the old boilerplate,
Old empty vessels, ready for scrapping if not seafaring,
Now the centuries old Union is ragged and wearing.

But brave little Britain, with a fair wind at her back
Push off from Europe, raising finger and Union Jack.

For the jolly old Empire is empirically sinking,
Great minds and high hopes are ever shrinking,
Is Britain’s role as a world power now historical?
Lets not ask the Great Question when it’s rhetorical.

 

 

©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.