February 29, 2008
Through ancient paths,
‘cross hills sublime.
I trekked on fields so green.
Breathing in the country air,
I lived my rural dream.
To fill my lungs with fresh, clean air,
was what I sought to do.
I gazed upon the scenery,
that took my breath to view.
In sweetest, quiet reverie,
I walked alone the route.
’til suddenly the peace was broke,
by snarling, drooling brute.
With searing pain,
and blood soaked clothes,
from idyll I descend.
The fearsome dog has sunk its teeth,
deep into my rear end.
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Poetry | Tagged: bum, country walk, dog bite, humor, humour, poem, poet, Poetry, rear end, walk |
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Posted by malpoet
February 28, 2008
I am, I am, I know I am.
I have been since so young.
I am who I know I am.
That I know,
shows what I am.
An oak is unaware,
I think,
of oakenness or tree.
Bacterium of
bacteriousness,
is absolutely free.
But, where lives
the knowingness,
that I am surely me?
That I am not
a rock, or coconut,
a rabbit or a flea.
Is the me,
that know’s I’m me
in brain, or mind,
or where?
If mind it is,
then do I mind.
If brain,
then do I care?
The me that drinks
until I reel,
in alcoholic haze,
does not behave
like sober me,
but me is in
each guise.
If me survives
continuous
through liquor
poisoned cells.
Then surely me
must live beyond
the chemistry
within.
The thread of me
that lives on through,
the child
and the man.
In sickness, health
and drunkenness,
in waking, sleep
and trance,
may not survive
a damaged brain,
though body mine
lives on.
A comatose,
or cabbage me,
would not be me at all.
If mind, or soul,
or spirit me,
of cells were
fully free,
that pulp brained
sorely damaged man,
would surely still
be me.
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Poetry | Tagged: body, consciousness, identity, mind, poem, poet, Poetry, self awareness, soul |
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Posted by malpoet
February 27, 2008
A free market should exist in people as well as goods and services. The only people who should be excluded are those who have been deported following legal process.
Everybody else should be free to come and go as they please without requirement of work permits or visas. Biometric identification should be used on entry and exit.
Discontinue all state benefits for anybody who has not been a continuous UK resident for 5 years
The simple solution to so called benefit tourism.
Citizenship is a different matter. Only citizens should be entitled to state benefits of any kind other than the protection of the law. Citizenship should be open to application to anybody who has lived in the country continuously for five years without any form of criminal conviction, speaks good English and has a record of employment and tax payment.
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Manifesto, Politics | Tagged: benefit tourism, benefits, biometric identification, border control, citizen, citizenship, crime, criminal, immigrant, immigration, UK, visa, work permit |
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Posted by malpoet
February 27, 2008
I was taught that verbs are active,
so I knew they got about.
You expect some minor frolics,
but not such mucky pranks.
When they told me that they conjugate
I had to look it up.
Then pushed the dictionary back,
before I blushed, bright pink.
It said they’re joining gametes,
in a loving, carnal act.
And if they didn’t do it,
they would be annulled and split.
You have to call the Pope in
to check that its been done.
Whether they did conjugate,
or if they still are one.
They’re much too rude for me to use.
So they are out of bounds.
Now all my work will only be,
with adjectives and nouns.
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Poetry | Tagged: conjugal rights, conjugate, humor, humour, poem, poet, Poetry, verbs, words, write, writes |
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Posted by malpoet
February 26, 2008
Three cows eggs and a corpse for parents.
A doting woman for a foster mum.
They say I’m the same as my dead daddy,
who lives on now through me and the cow.
They are wrong about that.
The thing they are missing, is
fixing my genes
didn’t set who I am.
The mum who has nursed me
gave no DNA,
but the love that she brought
went a very long way.
Making me me and not he.
Thank you kind cows.
You are parents I’m proud of.
All praise to dear mother,
but Dad I’m not sure
You didn’t want me.
It was you you were seeking.
Another long life
from a cell you bequeathed.
I am that cell
through a womb kindly given.
Three sweet parent cows,
and a life all my own.
I’ll have kids with a wife,
and die when my time comes.
You have died too!
You don’t live through me.
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Poetry | Tagged: cell, clone, cow, dad, DNA, egg, gene, genes, humor, humour, mother, mum, poem, poet, Poetry, womb |
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Posted by malpoet
February 25, 2008
The UK is committed to NATO as a nuclear power and there is no prospect of us discontinuing that alliance or of the United States ceasing to provide NATO with its nuclear capability. In those circumstances it makes no sense for us to renew our own national nuclear weapons at enormous cost when there is a very great need for tactical and battle ground weaponry for use in the many fields of operations to which we are committed.
The other issue, which is more important in my view, is that Britain is a signatory to the non-proliferation treaty that commits its participants to work towards the elimination of nuclear weapons. In my view that is not compatible with a full scale replacement of our nuclear capability. Continued protection from a nuclear deterrent under the NATO umbrella is adequate if we are as committed, as we claim, to our international allegiance to the US and the other NATO members. Apart from anything else, when we commit to international treaties we must mean what we say and do everything in our power to honour the obligations that we have undertaken.
At a time when we are part of the pressure on Iran to forego its nuclear ambitions and applying pressure to north Korea to abandon its terrifying development of nuclear weapons, we need to be able to show that we are not hypocritical in our attitudes to WMD. The worst possible position to be in is to be saying that it is OK for western nations to have hydrogen bombs because our governments and people are superior to theirs and therefore it is OK.
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Politics | Tagged: hydrogen bombs, iran, Korea, NATO, nuclear weapons, replacement, Trident, US, USA |
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Posted by malpoet
February 25, 2008
The march of humankind
leapt forward with the pot.
To store, to cook,
preserve and pack
So social life could form.
The sail sent trade
across the world,
blending race and lore.
Gold and spices
plied the sea,
while colonies
took root.
The book gave knowledge
down to all.
To pass
from age to age.
Accumulating steadily,
building stage by stage.
The wheel brought revolution.
Rolling farm hands
from the land.
Then the cogs of industry,
replaced the artisan.
The speaking primate
hauled himself
from cave to Martian probe.
Then the robot seizes power,
and the carbon age is done.
2 Comments |
Poetry | Tagged: carbon age, civilisation, civilization, poem, poet, Poetry, robot |
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Posted by malpoet
February 23, 2008
Scally in a tracky
with his orange bird.
Hanging on the corner,
not a sound is heard.
Her slap is perfect
and her hair just right,
She’s in her PJ’s
and her mouth is tight.
His hood is up.
He’s packing tonight.
Her fluffy, pink slippers
are pinching alright.
The glad WAG’s hiss
at the sad slags kiss,
of the muscle bound hunk
in the street,
is cut by the smack
of a slug in the back,
for the pimped up
prick dealing crack.
He drops in a pool,
the shooter is cool.
The city falls
dead again.
Scally in an alley
lying limp with lead.
She’s pissed her PJ’s.
Her dude is dead.
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Poetry | Tagged: city, drug dealing, humor, humour, pissed, pj's, poem, poet, Poetry, scally, shooting |
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Posted by malpoet