Dear Mr St James,
or should I call you Ray?
May I commend your poetry
on this rather fine day,
From twice a Proclaimers’ distance
you dispatched affection to your wife,
And with that eloquent utterance
Injected LOLs into your daughters life.
If you go down to the park today
You’re sure of a big surprise
They’ve gone and built a giant wall
You’ll never believe your eyes.
For every local that ever there was
Will never get in for certain because;
Today’s the day the corporates have their picnic.
Every corporate that’s been good,
*laugh* and all of the others too,
Will have lots of wonderful things to eat
And a country of people to screw.
Beneath the trees, where nobody sees,
They’ll plan and plot as long as they please,
Today’s the day the corporates have their picnic.
If you go down to the park today,
You’d better not go alone.
If they kettle you they’ll take your things,
So don’t even bring your phone.
For every cop that ever there was;
Is protecting the rich for certain, because;
Today’s the day the corporates have their picnic.
Welcome to the Church,
The mall has been renamed.
We recognise your guilt,
So spend away your shame.
Welcome to the Church,
We cater for all creeds.
We sell all the latest fads,
And things you’ll never need.
Welcome to the Church,
Please spend away.
We’ve spared no expense,
To help prolong your stay.
Welcome to the Church,
We sell everything you need.
Place your card upon the altar,
And help support our greed.
Welcome to the Church,
We’re a pantheistic union;
Agnostics and atheists too,
Can join with our communion.
Welcome to the Church,
We’ll be with you when you leave;
Our shops are on the internet,
Our tendrils help you believe.
Welcome to the Church,
We thank you for your support.
Your credit cards are overdue,
We’ll see you all in court.
I left my brain in Malta,
Beside a sun-kissed shore,
And now I’m back in blighty
I can’t use it anymore.
Shall we investigate social media campaigns?
Some work; going viral, while others fail to permeate.
Good SEO does improve search engine rating fame
And proper linking doth increase the click-through rate.
Sometimes thing will turn against your planning
And at times attract negative attention
And like Kony2012, appear to achieve nothing
Be gracious, cherish every Twitter mention.
But hashtag wisely, let your campaign roam,
Do not forget to Storify as you roll and tumble
Do not measure success by *likes* alone.
When it comes to point where you might stumble:
If you’re unsure, subvert a meme, throw a kitteh in the mix,
If still unsure then sex-it-up with feminist Ryan Gosling pics.
Dear Giant TCR-1, the one that someone stole away,
How I long for your return, on some momentous day.
To have you back would be delight,
I’d pedal you right through the night,
Ohh Giant TCR-1! Why did you go away?
I locked you up, with padded chain, outside the underground,
When I returned you were gone, no trace was to be found,
I called the police, a crime to report:
“Duly noted.” Was their retort.
Ohh Giant TCR-1! In search; the streets I’ll pound.
The interwebs were scoured for traces of your whereabouts,
Bikeshd, Craigslist, eBay; all sites turned inside and out,
But high or low you were not there,
I cried at nights with sheer despair,
Ohh Giant TCR-1! My best bike without a doubt.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more damp and more intermittent;
Rough winds; shake the droplets of rain away,
And summer’s gift; a memory of biblical lament:
Sometime, too much; heaven’s bladder omits,
And often leaves the golden piping overfilled,
And every drip descends into the pits,
By chance, or some divine will, we are coldly illed;
But the promised summer is a fallen leaf,
Now memories of spring are left once sprung;
Not for autumn to bring temporary relief
When we know than our summer cannot be wrung,
So long as people can breathe, we may survive the flood
So long as we live, we’ll forget that rivers ran dark with blood.
She stands there, hand over heart, she is my only love
So close, but locked away, paternal rules, rule out my love.
And with a final tap, her finger show me where I’ll live,
Beneath her breast, inside her chest, she’ll hold onto our love.
The room, she leaves, her parents scowl, a dowry has been lost,
My mother has, offered recompense, she’s trading wealth for love.
I’m told, as she is also told, that our tryst just cannot be,
Although we know, that we will find a way, for unrestricted love.
So now we send our letters, in code to neighbouring friends,
Hoping that our clandestine mail will endure our miss-managed love.
Her final letter: she is to be wed, to a cousin from the West,
The closing words, tear-stained; Semaj, you are my eternal love.
As nostrils flare, you know that chemical pathways are lighting up.
A sizzle, then the eyes open - Alert, but bloodshot.
A hand, resting on the shoulder, comforting -
Sparking recollections of last night’s brawl.
Words, spoken soothingly, send the seeker back to sleep.
Her smile, the last thing the alcohol’s subject sees.
A cook should always taste the first fry, before serving up.
