Poetry for the Perfect Crime

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I have trimmed the lawn
And cut the hedge
Watered the plants
And buried Reg
Underneath the patio
AH no sorry
No he has run away
To a foreign land
Or so I have been led to understand
And all his dogs have run away
And will not be back
So the neighbours say
And it was a shock to see
His house burn down
The fire brigade stuck
Just out of town
By a fallen tree on the track
Plus a several boulders in a sack
And a huge hole
Dug in the dead of night
Something the fire brigade said
Was a bit suspicious and not quite right
Meaning Reg’s house has completely  gone
Destroying the scene of the crime
Sorry I mean
Reg must be having a terrible time
Wherever he is
Although none of us know
But he is definitely not
Under my patio
.
AH
DAMN
.

Maybe I should not have said that.

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Poetry for Science sort of

 

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Science it seems can be quite important
Particularly if you are an alien with a laser beam
Or Professor Bernard Quatermass
And his top notch scientific team
But slightly less so if you have a van
On Clacton beach and like to sell ice cream
(Like granddad)
All I know, which is not a lot
Is science can be jolly complex
And will mess with the thoughts
Inside your head
As someone explains time is just a paradox
And Black is really red.
And electrons are all just empty space
And the human mind
Will turn everything into a smiley face
And Polypropylene is a linear hydrocarbon polymer
Which once warmed up can change its shape
A bit like my
Auntie Grace
Who seldom has
A
Smiley face.
Even when she has been heated up.

 

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Poetry for an incident on a diving board

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The Kiple once called the Grustle a fool
When it hissed at man in a large swimming pool
Who distracted fell off the high diving board
And got left suspended by
His swimming trucks cord
The Grustle amused laughed and it laughed
The Kiple accusing it of creating a draft
The lifeguard saving the man
With his trusty pen knife
Cutting the cord the man then fell on his wife
Who below was filming on her mobile phone
The video ending abruptly
With a scream and a groan
And although slightly scratched and battered
They are now both stars
On YouTube so they say

Although it’s a YouTube video
The Grustle refuses to play

 

Poetry for Professor Brexit

Micro God Man x

The strange world of Professor Vatis Brexit
Is full of in’s and outs
Where people Stay
And people Leave
And some just sort of sway
It’s a land were leaders shout I’m in charge
But are chased by lots of other folk
Who reply very loudly No you’re not
And then throw them off Big Ben just for a joke
And others shout I am right
And you are quite plainly wrong
Where Icelandic folk
For reasons not known
Sing a happy happy song
Of course Professor Vatis Brexit watches bemused
As turmoil continues day after day.
Looking up from his desk
Winking at his colleague Professor Britstay
And saying
These British are as mad as a box of Frogs
In an Eccentric British
Sort of
Way

Poetry for the EU referendum

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We have reached that day

Which seemed so very far away

The dreaded EU referendum vote

Which if we leave

Will cause some to cheer and some to grieve

And some to dress up as Horatio Nelson

While others will pretend to be pirates

Or spacemen or a pantomime horse

Which the rest of Europe

Will look upon baffled and confused

And tell each other . . . .

Well they are British of course

And we have never understood them

With their terrible Eurovison songs

And their silly cricket balls

And what kind of nation

Would throw wet sponges at vicars

Or play splat the rat

Amongst the village fete festive stalls

And why do they tolerate all that rain

Then complain about all of us

I mean have you ever been on their trains

Or their inter-city bus

But if they do vote to leave

Well it will be a rather sad sort of day

But it could be so much worse

They might decide to stay

Poetry for an Escapologist doing handstands on a Police Car

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Delilah was a contortionist
And an accomplished escapologist
Who to annoy her Ex-boyfriend
Police Sergeant Jim McDonald Scar
Would do tricks upon the roof
Of his much beloved police car
Much to the amusement of a certain
Miss Salome Bridgewater White
As she was regularly arrested
For being a lady of the night
But she was reputedly or so it was said
A rather good friend
Of a local man of the church
The very reverered
John Samuel Arthur Spiller-Birch
So every morning she would be freed
Because she had seen the light of God
And claimed it was a dusky pink
Which Police Sergeant Jim McDonald Scar
Thought was very odd
But then each morning as he left
To go out on patrol
Delia would be doing handstands
On his roof of his car
And sticking pins in a voodoo doll
And dipping it in hot tar

 

And when ask why she was so bitter
She explained that at their wedding
He ran off leaving her standing in the aisle
As he said he had villains to catch
And it was going to take a while
Then he discovered
Delilah’s Uncle George
Was making fake money in his garden shed
So Police Sergeant Jim McDonald Scar
Went to see Delilah and said
I will not marry into the criminal classes
So our love affair is
Dead
.
.
.
.
That seems rather hard
And after all Uncle George makes very good fake money

Poetry for men who look at old Mechanical things

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The great mechanical Marvel
With its dual time elapsed
Escapement movement
Turns slowly on its axis
Gears spinning driving its
Built in helical spring
And with its divergence inverted organ pipes
It can be taught to loudly sing
It truly is a wonder
As grown men drool
Over its polished Brass pipes
And not just old men in rain coats
But even younger well suited types
And they will look and point
And nod in a knowing way
A way that women don’t understand
Even in the more enlightened times
Of the modern day man.
You see
The great mechanical Marvel
Is a product of the past
And modern ones are all plastic
And never ever last
As bits fall off
And the escape value sticks
And the all important
Trestle adjustment screw
Keeps moving
So you stick it in with glue
But
The great mechanical Marvel
Grow men looking at its polished Brass
Supping on an ice cold pint of beer
Will always reassure a chap
After being trapped in a large supermarket
With his wife
And a supermarket trolley
That will not
Steer