PEEVISH BEE BOOKS
The Little Book of Awful Bad Poetry (September 2010)
Magpies, Ode to Hay Festival,
New Year’s Eve Poem, New Year’s Day Poem,
Little Stations, Lost without You,
Sad September, Bad–Big Biscuit Boy,
Coming of Age, So Help Me God.
You’re alright Jack, you’re OK Jill,
cos you live in an estate on the right side of the hill,
quite removed from the dole wallahs on the other.
You never felt that the world’s owed you a living,
so being right thinkin’
keep away from the plebs who all go out drinkin’.
And having the moral high ground,
you’ve worked hard all my life,
have always been married and stayed sort of faithful to your wife.
Lately, you’ve become so eco friendly,
shopping with hip hessian bags and trying to avoid plastic –
but your huge wall screen telly wasn’t the greatest,
so you junked it for the very best and the latest –
a vast one with high definition - really fantastic,
billions of mega pixels, Shontelle’s soft breasts - you can almost feel em’
and Dale’s fake tan looks so realistic.
You are tight, white and right,
so quick to judge, so swift to instruct -
and so ready to disapprove with such easy mockery
but to be fair you’ve little social pretension,
content as you are with your occupational pension.
At work your line manager’s a wonderful person,
she’s tough and dynamic
and makes sure you’re all on board the gravy train
which is never late and doesn’t stop at little stations.
it’s all meetings, meetings and more meetings,
conferences, issues, mentoring and policy implementation…….
I’ll scale your bungalow’s ramparts with these fine lines
and with my arrows of burning desire set fire,
to your rampant jobbery and smug petty snobbery.
So to save smouldering red bricks,
run to the shed and grab your big strimmer,
or try beating me off with those new Nordic sticks,
as I shield my eyes from blazing banality
And gag on the smoke of your choking conformity.
Big fish in little ponds - just like your carp ornamental,
I couldn’t care less if I never set eyes on the likes of you again!