Monday, 29 September 2008

Good Food Guy

I'm not very taken with liver and bacon
Asparagus isn't sublime
I couldn't care less for mustard & cress
It's just a complete waste of time
I don't have much fun with a burger and bun
And fries that are skinny or fat
You must be delirious, you cannot be serious,
How can a person eat that?

Fingers of fish don't make a good dish
They're not worth their space on the table
I'm not cock-a-hoop for vegetable soup
No matter how fancy the label
Forget about seafood... well, how can that be food?
Those cockles and mussels and crabs!
Curry and rice isn't terribly nice
And I can't see the point of kebabs

Italian? Greek? We had it last week
And I didn't think it was great
All olives and cheese, and as for Chinese
I won't touch a thing on the plate
Bread? It's okay in a dull sort of way
Though I hate it all smothered with jam
Don't walk off! That's not fair! You just don't seem to care
How terribly hungry I am!

Will Hames

Saturday, 27 September 2008

Open Mic Pose(u)r

Please misunderstand me, I’m a poet
Plain English really doesn’t play the game
I have a point to make, but my meaning’s quite opaque
If you work it out, I’ll hang my head in shame

I’m hoping you’ll be dazzled as I’m reading
The phrases no one sane could memorise
What I expect of you is to listen ‘til I’m through
And nod when I say words you recognise

Of course I’m philosophical and earnest
That has to be completely understood
But it’s way beneath my station to give clear communication
I wouldn’t do it, even if I could

I weightily intone my magnum opus
It rhymes and scans, and so it must be true
I artfully pretend that it’s almost at the end
But no such luck, I’m only halfway through

Just let the words wash over you and marvel
To think one man could be so wise and deep
And when my poem’s done, I’ll say, “Thank you, everyone”
Well, those of you who didn’t fall asleep

Will Hames

Piggy John

He'd spot me in the playground and his piggy eyes would gleam
I was his special victim, someone small that he could cream
He'd take my dinner money, tread my school cap in the mud
He'd pinch me in assembly, wouldn't stop 'til he drew blood

He had a little gang of other boys he called his mates
They'd laugh at all his nasty jokes and hang around the gates
To pick on kids he singled out for ridicule and pain
So glad they weren't the targets of his bullying campaign

When it was time for second'ry, we did a little show
And teachers stood in line to say, "How sad to see you go!"
The other kids were tearful at the thought of moving on
But I just thought, thank God I've seen the last of Piggy John

Well, years went by and I grew up, and everyone I'd meet
Compared to Piggy John, would seem adorable and sweet
He faded in my memory, a ghost of way back when
But yesterday, I came across old Piggy once again

The years had not been kind to him, I couldn't help but feel
The rain poured down his collar as he crouched and changed a wheel
With hopelessness and desperation in his weary eyes
It seemed to me the guy had shrunk to half his former size

He looked the soul of misery and bitter, deep frustration
I couldn't bear to leav him in this awful situation
I quickly wound the window downwards in my brand-new Rover
Then called, "Hi, John! Remember me?"
And ran the fucker over

Will Hames