Game Changer

Tie me awhile a Friday night smile

To ease off our credits and gains

Give us a draught of sedative laugh

Cool air on our strings and refrains

I have much to consider

Songs and rhymes to complete

Feel I’m treading on teardrops

soaked right through to my feet

Don’t come around here grinning

In your copse mop cotton hat

Spouting 'lost weekend' waffle

And all that Saturday morning chat

FA Queues

If your exciting recent purchase

Doesn’t do what it should do

Putting paid to expectations

To leave you sadly pastel blue

Get on the phone and make a call

Select a pathway to success

Pressing umpteen bloody numbers

Achieving nothing but distress

Wait your turn we know you’re there

Robotic whispers in your ear

And just for training purposes

We make recordings have no fear

Our call rate is quite high today

You’re number eighteen on the list

You may try our on-line services

For those problems that persist

And if you do I’m sure you’ll find

A host of so much more to do

Enlightened by such lunacy

That lurks among the FAQ

I’ve tried it out so many times

Reading every frequent question

Finding answers most infrequently

Inflicting chronic indigestion

I would love to end this jabber

With an upbeat point of view

Instead I recommend not bothering
With that 'sweet nothing' FA Queue

Knot! On Wood

Peter the Painter man of the brush
colour coded Da Vinci serene

He goes with the grain tying up knots

gives your surface a velvety sheen

Always on top with your paint in his pot

Pulling strokes with his overcoat on

No drips does he drop avoids any slop

such decorative style thereupon

Notorious Knotter from Brooklands Road Hull

Gilded Lilly

Golden leaves fall 
rusty in her garden

Pearls of wisdom 
disregarded all in vain

She doesn't need
a way-out definition

Can vanish in disguise
not feeling pain

Her cloaks put colour
in her rainbow

She wears them out
impressively unpaid

Cut and tailored 
without trace of imperfection

In a troupe of surface 
sentiment hand made

Tell Me About It

What was it like when you were young?

What was it like in the olden days

she looked at him sincerely

Was life completely black and white

He drew breath to answer clearly

Lives back then for me at least

was not so much a mystery

although anyone and everyone

had a different take on history

Friends and enemies danced and pranced

disappearing in the mist

peppered pockets full of anecdotes 

a self obsessing must do list

It would be nice to learn the lessons

Written down in some old book

as though opinions of another time

might validate what we mistook

This place where we are standing

In terms of time somewhat aloof

Objectively subjectively

will take you nowhere without proof

MOONRISE MELODY

Heavens above it’s Luna my love

He howled in sheer delight

Shadowy clouds have sailed away

All my darkness taken flight

Nightly needs at last returned

My senses tickety-boo

Celestially my starlit eyes

Turning tides aside for you

The night is ours together again

As you reflect on my delight

Released to roam and ruminate

Our heavy troubles travel light

Inky Pinky Pen And Ink

A FOX ON THE RUN

Reynard the Rover a man of the stash

Money bags bulging stuffed with cash

sensibly shrewd not known to be rash

Will charge the night to a 'Dollar Sign' flash

His prominence known for his moonlight splash

Not a sour cent traceable to moonshine mash

irrreverent reference to a tag with a 'Hash'

Any oversights underspent discarded as trash

Like a long horn bronco from the low grown ash

He's a Texas 'Tea Boy' at a barn dance bash

A fleet foot runner from the Wall Street crash

Stitched deep inner lining where the blues can't clash

Somebody Grilled My Gills

I'm all tied up I locked my hem

when buttons wouldn't do

sleeping on the forest floor

recalling what is who

Talking to a passing frog

thinking chicken soup

with limiting ingredients

I can't escape this chowder loop

Encompassed in my landed plot

hearing threads that ebb and flow

considering ones onions

when dining out with Al Fresco

More Wandsworth than Wordsworth

Wondering lonely in my icloud

A host of gold card bills unpaid

Angry crowds approaching me

I took to the hills where oft I’d strayed

I came across a lakeside parlour

Danced among the tidal laps

And winking at the sky above

In the margins of my sad mishaps

I popped a champagne cork with glee

Considered all things healthily

Dancing gold cards fluttering free

Through my window peering stealthily

Pompous Nobbery

Beware the sneaking predator

With agendas up their sleeve

Interrogate your inner mind

Grinning furtively they leave

They ask you for esteemed advice

Your opinions plead to share

Then blatantly do other things

To leave you hanging in the air

It’s a form of mental bullying

A sleight of mind to their delight

A sneak thief of your ego

Will undermine and dim your light

Philosophically they’re after you

Don’t stand too near the plughole

They’ll suck you into sewage pulp

Feigning shock if you scream ASKHOLE!

Pressurised Dave is Steaming

Dates, times and appointment crimes

Indifference without shame

All promises made with caveats

Deny commitments prior claim

Tell them Thursday Jonny boy

Forget the week commencing

All squeaky wheels we must oil first

It’s a game of walls and fencing

The customers must wait their turn

In this mattered world of ‘Ish’

We are the much sought after boys

We there for you whenever we wish

Harping on and carping off

A dicey game we don’t do nagging

should you offer too much grievance

We’ll leave you cold and lacking lagging

Ramus a Bones Head of Contention

Ramus seems a pleasant chap

His smile somewhat eternal

But he has a one-way talking head

His lack of listening skills infernal

Ramus says our days are few

He wafts his book as perfect proof

Quoting ‘good news’ passages

To us fallen folk aloof

“Now Ramus you hold on there

I have another point of view

I can’t believe those written words

Contradictorily untrue”

His smile remains a golden gleam

a miner’s lamplight blinding

ears clogged up with rapture

His collar tightly binding

All around our neighbourhood

This uninvited guest

Will ring our bell and rap our door

Proclaiming Jesus loves you best

Enough, enough we must speak up

Enduring myths most famous

Don’t quote us words as evidence

We are the types who ignore Ramus

Neville Breville

Madness not to keep your hat on

Whether on the go or resting

Most people will agree

Irrespective of your preference

Everything stops for tea

Partaking of a comfort cup

Restores ones sanity

Whether mayhem, pandemonium

Everything stops for tea

If for you this ditty strikes a chord

And you haven't time for tea

If the kettle takes too long to boil

get Neville Breville just like me

Hey Cunningham !!!

Story Link

Henry Winkler’s got it made
on the streets of our square mile
he can march across old London Bridge
with his goat in single file

He can walk in drunken stupor

with his naked sword unsheathed

no chance of being press ganged

our Lord Mayor’s Charter has bequeathed

Happy days in London town

its thumbs up for the Fonz

should they need to stretch his neck at all

they’ll hang him high in silken bonds

Approximately Dylanesque

When all your winners and celebrities

have disappeared of late

leaving little else but memories

like stale breadcrumbs on your plate

When all the ice cubes in your cocktails

have diluted all your strength

and those who queued to share your light

now never nearer than arm's length

Will your promise made with emptiness 

recall the piper's debt unpaid

to the tune of something out of key

when you believed you had it made

Queen Jane Approximately - Bob Dylan

"When your mother sends back all your invitations
And your father, to your sister, he explains
That you're tired of yourself and all of your creations,
Won't you come see me Queen Jane?
Won't you come see me Queen Jane?"