Category Archives: Uncategorized

When one falls in love some fall whole-heartedly, some half-heartedly. Take your pick.

A Gem.

Your heart is hard,
Dark, cold as flint,
My love you disregard,
No love spark, nary a glint;
Has your heart gone on strike?

Your heart I sought
But it’s buried deep,
I quarried for naught,
Have a heart, it’s going cheap,
In two bits, just as you like.

Your heart you guard
Like the Federal mint,
My heart you’ve scarred,
I can take a dropped hint;
You’re going to take a hike.

 

©Obbverse

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

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

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