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Showing posts from June, 2011

Dick the highwayman.

Dick was an highwayman on the road to York. He clip clopped along on his trusty horse. Clip-clop clippity-clop, As a Highwayman, Dick was a complete flop. His horse couldn't outrun the Highway Cop. :0\    

Tap to Rap.

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Hey yo old git's foller me  tap our plates to new poetry. Stop yo winging rap aint bad, Follow me, the rap granddad. wear your caps; beanies too; If your shy a hood'll do. Tap, tap, tap it's rap Put over the top yo point of view, like Keats and Wordsworth; Tennyson too. Older poets then me or you Musics fast catchy- few! tap those feet hear t words, don't dismiss like verbal turds. Tap, tap to the rap. Not boring ranting crap it's new poetry ITS RAP! Iceberg cool, cool as ice, all the rage raging on the new age. tap, tap to the rap. Hip hop Is that a cop?

A laugh a minute; I think.

We had a cockerel in our yard, he used to crow a lot. Now he does not crow at all; he's in a cooking pot. Ding dong bell pussies in the well, who put him in? I'm not gonna to tell. I told the doctor that I had a whistling in my ears, he said, 'When did you first notice it?'  I said, 'When my dog kept on coming back to me.' I also told him that my ears were painful.  He said, 'Is the pain intense?'   I said, 'Yes; In tents, In the house, outside, everywhere.' He said, 'I think your deaf.' I said, 'Why do I look like Jeff?' They syringed my ears and a pea flew out, so the whistling stopped.   a quarry owner was struggling to make a living cos his business was on the rocks.                      When is a moth a cat? When it is a tiger moth There are no flies on the Welsh. Only dragon flies. Hey, this governme
We had a cockerel in our yard, he used to crow a lot. Now he does not crow at all; he's in a cooking pot. Ding dong bell pussies in the well, who put him in? I'm not gonna to tell. a quarry owner was struggling to make a living cos his business was on the rocks.                      When is a moth a cat? When it is a tiger moth There are no flies on the Welsh. Only dragon flies. Hey, this government are outlawing the term Pensioner, they are phasing pensions out. Your next title (after worker) will be "The deceased"  I have decided to hang my dogs I.D. tag on the base of his tail to stop other dogs sniffing his bum. I said to my Mrs, "Don't let me be a cabbage. I would rather be a couch potato like all the other brain dead people." Posh bloke from double barrel named village visited Northern Industrial Town "What a Shit-hole!" He said. Well he was just passing through! Hey, I don't know how those A

The Mad Poet.

  Rupert was an aspiring poet, though the critics didn't know it. He began to rave and tear his hair out, his lips were formed in a permanent pout. He wasn't original. In time he was sectioned, he'd gone out of his mind, Well, he'd never been in it, I think you will find. He now sits in his cell dreaming up lots of verse Of silvery moons and a nocturnal hearse. frittering lights and a madman's curse. He was getting original. In time he was allowed to use sharp pens, so he wrote of ghostly shapes crossing fog shrouded fens. The critics read his work and now want to know it. Rupert's now famous; a celebrated Mad Poet. Now he's original.

Jobs Worth s. (A part of a sitcom that I have written. Also read my story The Diary of a Jobsworth)

 SCENE 2.   Ext. Bog road car park.- day1. [11.00hrs] The scruffy Looking Billy-Pegleg- Buffham limps around the car park.   SCENE 3. int. cruising unmarked  police car.- day 1. [11.io hrs] Detective sergeant Keenan: Hold it there Constable, what’s he up to? Detective Constable Dickens: Who Sergeant?  Ah, I see him, you mean that scruffy looking bloke with the woolly hat on? Detective sergeant Keenan: Yeah, stop the car constable. Detective Constable Dickens parks the car in the kerbside opposite the car park.  detective sergeant keenen steps out the car. Cut to:  SCENE 4. ext. bog road car park-day1 [11.20 hrs] Detective Sergeant Keenan circles around the car park until he is in a position to observe Billy Buffham from behind the car park ticket machine.  billy finds a car without a ticket on the windscreen and is about to take his pen out of his pocket when the sergeant dashes up to him.  grabs his writing hand and pushe

The lonely Inn across the Lonely Moor.

 I came across a lonely Inn across a lonely Moor, The clientèle were weird as hell so I legged it for the door. I made it to the threshold, the air inside was cold. Mine host appeared in front of me, a pale skinny chap, upon his bony head he wore a raggedy worn cap. "Stay my friend," he said, with a leering smile; If only I could have squeezed passed him I'd have done a minute mile. As I went back to the bar the customers watched intently. One of them muttered something about a hearse being a luxurious Bentley. What is this place I thought to myself; not daring to ask. Then I overheard some muttered words where someone mentioned an ornate cask. The barmaid was not a pretty lass, with hair all frizzy and thin. She stared at me with glassy eyes and knocked back a double Gin. "What do you want to drink?" she asked, in a haunting voice. "A pint of bitter please", I answered, thinking I had no choice. The beer was good, the company bad, t