Greedy Gem sat down to lunch
His mouth wide open ready to munch.
He wasn’t fussed about what he ate
He thought everything simply tasted great.
His Mum was sick of his greedy ways
And thought up a plan to make him pay.
The meat she put upon his plate
Was six months past it’s sell-by date.
Gem didn’t care he wolfed it down
The King of Food without a crown.
His stomach full his eyes grew heavy
His forehead and his hands got sweaty.
“What’s going on?” Mum heard him mumble
He rubbed his tummy as it rumbled.
It danced and jumped and swirled around
It made a marvelous whizzing sound.
Then all went quiet inside his tum
But it had moved down towards his bum.
He ran as fast as his legs would go
Down the hall and towards his throne.
“Oh no!” he groaned, he was too late
The rotten meat had sealed his fate.
When just inside the bathroom door
Poor Gem he pooped upon the floor.
It happened fast it was so violent
Then all at once his butt fell silent.
He took a step then slipped and fell
More Poopy Pete than Greedy Gem.
Let this be a lesson for the greedy ones
Who want to stuff and stuff their tums.
Just eat enough and take it handy
And then you’ll be just fine and dandy.
The day isn’t always welcomed by the sun
Sometimes it’s cloud and sideways swiping rain
Your face not always basked by warm suns glow
Sometimes it’s cold expands the crevasses of age and pain.
Though crest is hidden by crag or growth
The hills end naer moves futher from your grasp
The minds eye drifts to times and faces past
All futures lost to mental resignation of fate.
From one small spark a mammoth wildfire spreads
The gift of stubbornness oxygen to that flame
Ignites the heart and beats within your chest
One step and start it all again.
Me Me Me Me
To butcher Creep by wise Radiohead
Can express the things you’ve never said
To love oneself so much is quite an obsession
You wish you were an angel who was so fuckin’ special.
Instead you’re a cliché, a spectacular one
Surrounded by strangers, and trappings, such fun
Searching out something so precious a life
A trail left behind of carnage and strife.
Why won’t people just let you live as you want?
The only real answers to that are so blunt
Yet still you don’t listen you want to be free!
“It’s all about me, me, me, me, me, ME!”
The Wind Blew
I’m playing quietly, good as gold
My dolls are doing what they’re told
But something starts deep in my tummy
It’s like a pain but it feels funny.
It started low and and without grace
Rumbling scundering gathering pace
This sound could be a work of art
This most ginormous thundering fart!
The doors slammed shut, the curtains blew
The fire went out, the cushions flew
A howling gale consumed the room
And whipped all things off to their doom
The gusts died down and all went quiet
That fart gave me an awful fright
At least it’s done and all is well
Oh wait, what’s that? The smell, THE SMELL!
They hear all things said
And pass that on to you,
They live inside your head
And tell you what to do.
“Go make your bed” your Mammy said
That’s not what they told you sure
Instead they said to fake you’re dead
And you dropped to the floor.
“What’s your favourite number?”
You teacher asks the class?
“MY NUMBER 2S” you thunder
The Earwhizzles laugh and gasp.
You see they play tricks
These people in your head
There’s Ann, Joe and Nics,
And Tom, and Joan, and Fred.
They set up house inside your skull
To laugh and joke and play
With them around life is not dull
They brighten up your day.