Critics
I dunked my biscuit in my tea
And sat and relaxed on my old settee,
I'd been worrying about my poetry
And what the critics thought of me.
Then all at once a blinding light
Flashed up and gave me an awful fright -
I realised I didn't care,
None of their comments were ever fair,
They'd learnt about poetry in their schools
And the whole damn lot of them were a bunch of fools! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Nocturne (In Times Gone By)
Outside, the night sucks street lamps like orange lozenges
And the moon creeps slowly over rooftops.
Magic permeates the air.
Was there ever a time
When iron frogs were worth a King's ransom
And little elves wept by the desolate bus-stops?
A lonely policeman cycles away
And grieves for the passing of childhood,
While a poet loiters in the churchyard, drinking a can of beer.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Lost Souls
hanging around
waiting for something to do
but there is nothing,
if he smoked he'd smoke a cigarette
fag-end of time
waiting
dynamic apathy, nothing
to do,
lives wasted in schizophrenia
wandering about, straying into cafes
hopeless pints
never a girlfriend
anxious hours
waiting-rooms, injections
occasional sweet moments of joy
a hundred years of boredom in a minute
Jesus spare us
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Curse
The moon slips in the sky,
The stars are out of kilter,
The homosexual priest
Will desecrate the altar.
No good turning to him in fear
If you want compassion or shelter:
False coinage of a blasphemous Pope
Thrown into the wishing-well water -
Hide yourself in an orgy of grief,
Beware of the hooded mother,
Her breast is eaten by a worm
As you listen to her hideous laughter.....
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Big Ward Sister
Be careful, mister!
She'll have you in her ward, her web,
The Big Ward Sister,
She'll have your soul for breakfast -
She's a giant Spider
And her words are poison
And she likes to watch you suffer -
She'll take your dreams away
Till you are horribly normal
And insincere like she is,
Fit for the world again,
Castrated, unable to feel any pain,
Horribly healthy, horribly sane! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Heatwave
A few drops won't save us now, you say,
A crazy god up there
Is bringing Nature to the boil!
But there's no thunder anywhere,
No torrent to slake the thirsty soil
Cracked and disfigured by the endless heat.
With not a breath to stir the air
The flag hangs motionless on the mast.
Reluctantly the clouds begin to leak,
After a hot and humid week
The sky is sweating tears at last....
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Letter from Prison
In my cell I've daubed the heart's graffiti
On the wall, but I cant tell
Why I'm here, or why
They've kidnapped Jesus.
A long time ago
They said I had cancer of the soul
And took me to a strange place
Where there were no women.
They gave me chemotherapy and ECT
And stole the secrets of my dreams.
I lie here in my loneliness
And listen to the loud screams
Of Jesus from the next room.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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BBC and Politically Correct Media
We live in a 'democracy'
And kid ourselves that we are free -
Beware then of the BBC,
The British Brainwashing Conspiracy!
They want to tell us what to think
And, sure enough, their motives stink.
But be careful if you would defy
The Servants of the Secret Lie,
Corruption and hypocrisy
Are multiplying endlessly,
And they'll ruin you if they suspect
You're not POLITICALLY CORRECT.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Brush-off
I've listened to your hype
And it leaves me cold,
You're simply not my type,
I'm much too old
For you in any case,
And though you've got a pretty face
You've got to realise
I've seen right through your lying eyes
And I'm not impressed -
You've put me to the test
But I'm not about to compromise
And end up in your bed -
In spite of what you said
I think I'll have a cigarette instead!
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Lady Chatterley's Mother
I often worried about my daughter
And what the people at school had taught her,
It's not that she's a wayward child
But had her innocence been defiled?
She needed love and a lot of affection
But did I point her in the right direction?
I hope she won't turn out a disgrace
And that she'll always remember her place
As a special example to society -
Heaven preserve her from notoriety! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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