Beau Peep Notice Board
Beau Peep Notice Board => Outpourings => Topic started by: Redundant on April 27, 2016, 08:20:22 PM
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...it just has to come out:
It’s a sneaky insidious liar
There’s no grace to growing old
Just creaking bones
And aches and moans
And always feeling the cold
It rots your mind and steals your breath
This murderous traitorous age
Like your favourite toy
You had as a boy
That lies twisted and broken in rage
Lost, bemused and mostly bewildered
Our memories ransomed by mist
By carers we’re guarded
As hope is discarded
Until we cease to exist
[What? They can't all be about love and sex]
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I thought you meant it was like a fart in that your own doesn't seem half so bad as other people's.
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I thought you meant it was like a fart in that your own doesn't seem half so bad as other people's.
Sadly I have distinct memories which entirely refute that particular urban legend <-
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Mine, much like the Queen's, have always been silent and scentless. :-*
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Mine, much like the Queen's, have always been silent and scentless. :-*
Ah, but are they (as Billy Connolly once observed about Her Majesty) expelled through a small valve on one's pinky, as one performs the Royal Wave to the adoring masses from one's limousine window?
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We used to call them SBDs - "Silent But Deadly", lately it's become the cry "Release the Kraken!" [it's a small Island, there's not that much to do]
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Redundant, I like your avatar - There are 10 kinds of people: those who understand BINARY and those who don't.
In the same vein, why is Halloween the same as Christmas?
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In the same vein, why is Halloween the same as Christmas?
Thanks Mince, because 25=31, octally speaking
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Topical!!! [Is there no end to the lack of talent this man possesses? Probably not]
Anti Semitics
And racist taunts
Echo in the hallways
That Labour now haunts
Why seek to recant
Heartfelt predilection
We didn't mean it
An apologists contradiction
Exile Jews to the States
In a final solution
It's not anti Jewish
Just a Jewish 'dissolution'
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Topical!!! [Is there no end to the lack of talent this man possesses? Probably not]
Anti Semitics
And racist taunts
Echo in the hallways
That Labour now haunts
Why seek to recant
Heartfelt predilection
We didn't mean it
An apologists contradiction
Exile Jews to the States
In a final solution
It's not anti Jewish
Just a Jewish 'dissolution'
Seriously Redundant, have you considered taking up interpretative dance?
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Seriously Redundant, have you considered taking up interpretative dance?
Is that because:
a) It's pretty difficult to post an "interpretative dance" in a forum or
b) a similar expression to "You do for poetry what Charles Manson does for Music?" or
c) you secretly want me to write another poem, but this time about Isadora Duncan?
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Heartfelt predilection
I first heard that word when I saw Star Trek 2, and have loved it ever since.
BONES: Spock, you haven't changed a bit. You're just as warm and sociable as ever.
SPOCK: Nor have you, Doctor, as your continued predilection for irrelevancy demonstrates.
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Heartfelt predilection
I first heard that word when I saw Star Trek 2, and have loved it ever since.
BONES: Spock, you haven't changed a bit. You're just as warm and sociable as ever.
SPOCK: Nor have you, Doctor, as your continued predilection for irrelevancy demonstrates.
;D ;D Sadly, I remember that, and it could well be that's where my subconscious got it from. It is a lovely word, glad I got to use it!
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The music for this part of the film is my absolute favourite piece from the late and great James Horner.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WCpYqWAIwFA
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My wife wants me to redo the first poem and she's going to put it in a Birthday card for a friend of ours...I thought she liked him. Apparently he will be so impressed I actually wrote it he will not notice what a depressing little dirge it is...like I said, it's a small Island, here this is called entertainment...
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Well, there's good news...whilst rummaging for something completely unrelated I came across several poems of mine which were written somewhere between thirty and forty years ago, from their content it's clear I was a fairly angry man with leftist tendencies. But you don't have to take my word for that, and that's the bad news. Once I find one or two that are the least cringe worthy, I plan to share them here...
This cultural experience is sponsored by "Je t'aime Crème" the pile cream for discerning and caring lovers
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Okay, this one didn't make me too nauseous, governments have never treated their armed services well, frequently sent into dangerous situations ill equipped, dumped in time of peace, the list goes on, so I apparently wrote this. I was dearly tempted to edit it, but it's "as was" from whenever it was written [circa 1980]:
Don't let them steal your heart away
Will you play the drums slowly
As we march through your town
Will you play the pipes softly
With a smile not a frown
We're off to Flanders Field this day
And most will not return
It's not war but that which causes it
That gives us most concern
All the lawyers and the leaders
Safely hid behind the men
Yet they send us into battle
Not once but once again
There will always be disasters
While we let the wrong ones rule
They use our lives completely
Make each of us their fool
Marching ever marching
To the sounds of the devils cry
No more of wives or sweethearts
As we lay down to die
And when the war is over
And the politicians rise
To sing the fallen praises
With false tears in their eyes
Don't let them steal your heart away
Don't listen to what they say
I'd rather die in Flanders Field
Than live my life their way
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Before my next trip down the poetic timeline, I have never claimed to be a great poet, nor a good one, nor even a mediocre poet, just a poet. Inspiration is drawn from everything, and is often defeated by the same thing. One of my all time favourite inspirational pieces, which cannot be named as anything other than sheer genius:
…I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil, that men do, lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Caesar.
The noble Brutus hath told you,
Caesar was ambitious;
If it were so, it was a grievous fault;
And grievously hath Caesar answer’d it,
Here, under the leave of Brutus, and the rest,
(For Brutus us an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men;)
Come I to speak at Caesar’s funeral.
He was my friend,
Faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says, he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransomes did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see, that on the Lupercal,
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause;
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
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This is probably the last one, I'm off to take some photo's shortly, stock car racing, first time for me so g-d knows what the pictures will look like. Not much of a shock to anyone hear I should imagine, but this one clearly highlights my love of all things Thatcherite, I think this one was written somewhere around the time of the miners strike.
The struggle
And in the days that come
And in the days that pass
The struggle will continue
The struggle of men and class
Rich men in their mansions
Will thrust and weal their power
Will lie and cheat and even kill
Safely in their ivory tower
They finance political parties
Control the popular press
They twist the truth in order
To subjugate, cover and oppress
If a man comes forward
To fight for mortal man
They smash is reputation
Destroy whenever they can
They manipulate elections
With bribes with lies with hate
Dishonour any honest man
And cast him to his fate
They make puppet politicians
And cry democracy
State police and riot squads
How small can freedom be
Yes that's your Mrs Thatcher
Puppet oh so grand
Multinational puppet strings
Lashed to bind her hand
The countries course is set
Thus we hear her cry
As the puppet masters jostle
To see the people die
Perhaps there is no answer
Perhaps no one can see
The damage multinationals
Do to you and me
https://youtu.be/Q3bbsDJWlXQ
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Bizarrely, Red, my wife was clearing out some junk recently and came across some stuff from my school days. Among the photos and "must do better" report cards was a poem. It went...
The chances of a comeback
By the dinosaur are slim.
And, anyway, I'd rather dance
With you and not with him.
I have VERY vague memories of writing this. I was probably 15 or 16 and it was intended for a girl I was besotted with. I'm assuming I gave the "poem" to her at some stage and that would explain why my love was unrequited.
Red, some great stuff from you. It would appear that my early work wasn't quite as eloquent or intense as yours.
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Bizarrely, Red, my wife was clearing out some junk recently and came across some stuff from my school days. Among the photos and "must do better" report cards was a poem. It went...
The chances of a comeback
By the dinosaur are slim.
And, anyway, I'd rather dance
With you and not with him.
I have VERY vague memories of writing this. I was probably 15 or 16 and it was intended for a girl I was besotted with. I'm assuming I gave the "poem" to her at some stage and that would explain why my love was unrequited.
Red, some great stuff from you. It would appear that my early work wasn't quite as eloquent or intense as yours.
;D ;D It would have been epic if it had worked though, I know some of mine did! Not sure on the eloquence but was I pretty intense. I think at the time I fully intended to set the world to rights, I still believed socialism would work for g-ds sake. Now I'll settle for a hot cup of coffee, a good book and the occasional fellowship with my fellow man [and woman]. The poets not dead, just slumbering :-)
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I think at the time I fully intended to set the world to rights
The world is a car out of control and heading for a broken bridge, and we're all passengers spending the remaining time redesigning the steering wheel.