Police Report – dumb pig murdered

Tags

Australian poet, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

The pig built his house out of straw.
The walls and the roof and the door.
Well, a wolf (that’s our guess)
Then broke in – it’s a mess –
Just a curly tail, trotters, and gore.

Supersize

Tags

Australian poet, Fatties, Formal poetry, Obesity epidemic, poem, poetry, supersize

Meet Mary and her partner Pat;
She’s obese and he’s quite fat,
But they are comfy with their curves
And they still eat enormous serves.

Concrete – some hard facts

Tags

Green madness, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry, Satirical prose, Sustainability, Sustainable building

The Last Straw

Please give shelter to me and my spouse.
Someone left the gate open – the louse!
See, we built out of straw,
(For it now is the law)
And the cows have just eaten our house.

You know that show on TV – the one where some well-groomed and fashionable guy follows the building antics of earnest eco-friendly hipster couples as they build houses out of cow shit, straw, lime and mud, while hinting to us deplorable viewers, living in our unsustainable houses of bricks and mortar, concrete, timber and steel, that we are condemning planet Earth to a slow and agonizing death. And the variation on the theme, where they are rescuing some decrepit old industrial building, church, water tower or some such wreck that has three intact bricks and a few half-rotten sticks of timber left in its sorry carcass? Yep that’s the one – it’s about sustainable and therefore virtuous building methods – at least that’s what the host, and the builders (well the couple who supervise the rather bemused actual builders) say with monotonous regularity, but you know what? They never explain exactly how this “sustainable” building is going to save the Earth. It’s all very strange – after all, as their pile gradually rises, or as that aforementioned existing (well actually hardly existing at all) building is torn down and but for those few bricks and rotten bits of timber is completely rebuilt, millions of tons of concrete is being poured all over the world and there are skyscrapers going up everywhere, and they are not built out of cow shit and straw (well I hope not!). I may be missing something, but to me it’s a bit like what’s happening with our power generation here in Australia – we’re shutting down our few coal-fired power stations to reduce emissions, and relying on unreliable “green” power while the Indians and Chinese are building hundreds of coal-fired power stations and burning our coal! Ah! Emotion triumphs over logic once again! But I digress – for some reason the left (for that’s the club the above-mentioned people obviously belong to) has got a bee in its collective bonnet about concrete and steel, but concrete in particular. According to them it’s not “sustainable” to build with the stuff – what do they mean? Have any of them been to Rome? The Romans invented concrete! Have they seen the Pantheon dome? Yes, a lot of concrete is still there, 1600 years after the fall of their empire, and there would have been a lot more to see had not a bunch of hairy and concrete-ignorant Germans known as the Goths sacked the city and no doubt knocked a lot of it down. With a little bit of maintenance the Colosseum would have been standing now in all its glory and fully intact. It takes energy to make concrete and steel, but it takes energy to make cow shit and straw and lime and mud as well. As far as I know no one has done the sums, but I suspect, all things taken into account, there’s not much difference. The materials for the making of concrete are, in practical terms, inexhaustible. For something or some practice to be “sustainable” it must be able to remain intact for a long period, to continue, to endure – my money is on concrete, not cow shit and straw.

Mettle Fatigue

Tags

Australian poet, Cultural Decline, Decline of the West, epigram, poem, poetry, Political Correctness

As a nation’s iron will turns to rust,
Bronze statues are biting the dust.

http://www.foxnews.com/us/2017/10/18/which-confederate-statues-were-removed-running-list.html

The Corpse Light

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Corpse Light, poem, poetry, will-o'-the-wisp

I saw it travel – a bluish light,
From a graveyard, grey
In the dead of night,

To a house – it lingered, and then returned,
So I went next day
Where the light had burned,

But I found no trace on the grass or ground,
So I turned away;
Then a sobbing sound

Carried on the breeze – ‘twas a woman’s cry;
For a dead man lay
In the house nearby.

Appeasin’ their Treason

Tags

Australian Jihadists, Australian poet, Home grown Jihadists, ISIS, Islamic infiltration, islamic Terrorism, Islamization, jihad, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

Desist from abuse, all you haters!
Stop calling them names, you race-baiters!
Although we’ve a crisis
And they fight for ISIS,
We have to go easy on traitors.

Sneaking in the Back Entrance

Tags

Australian poet, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

You’re abnormal these days if you’re straight.
If you’re male it’s a male you should date.
When you get to his house
Be as quiet as a mouse;
He’ll suggest you come in the back gate.

Iconic Ned

Tags

Australian bush poetry, Australian traditional poetry, Bushrangers, Kelly Gang, Ned Kelly, Ned Kelly the Australian icon, poem, poetry

The fashion – to revere the ones who lose,
And elevate them to a higher place.
Their bitterness with victimhood replace.
Their critics, of class prejudice accuse.

Forgotten, those whose courage won success,
Or else their reputations smeared and mired,
While Kelly and his gang are much admired
By many in the media and press.

It’s true we have a bushranger icon.
A bitter youth who chose to rob and kill.
To terrorize and force men to his will,
And finally a suit of iron to don

When all his crazy plans had come undone
And innocents lay dead around his feet.
Was then his immortality complete –
Transformed by myth, by class and by the gun,
From murderer to celebrated son.

W.C. Williams

Tags

Australian poet, poem, poetry

I knew a plumber/fitter named Water Closet Williams;
His income supplemented by giving whores brazilians.
He’d fit the pipes to toilets; he’d run the gas to cookers,
And when he wasn’t plumbing he was waxing hirsute hookers.

He said he quite enjoyed it – his job was never boring;
He got a lot of offers but he wasn’t into whoring.
To pipes he was accustomed, but of females he was wary,
For he sometimes felt a tinge of fear in situations hairy.

Pfftt…..

Tags

Australian poet, Democratic Party, Left Liberals, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, Marxists, poem, poetry, Socialists

Their behaviour is infantile, crass.
They’re irrelevant has-beens, alas.
They’re a collective wreck;
They’ll soon shrink to a speck,
And then disappear up their own ass.