Dreaming of Eva
You're the dachau of my desperate desire
Who fills my veins and arteries with fire
As I lie in broken despair
Twisted and strangled by your beautiful hair,
Ravished by your death-camp eyes
Telling their lecherous and ghastly lies.
Release me from your fatalistic dreams!
Can't you hear the harrowing screams
Of children suffocating to death?
They're dying in their millions now
Inhaling your sweet and poisonous breath.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Wannabe Rock Star
I knew a guy who played guitar
And liked to think himself a star;
He thought he equalled Kurt Cobain
If not in talent, then in pain.
Unfortunately pain don't sell,
There was no market for his hell
And so he turned to heroin
Which fed his hunger and kept him thin.
Now all of us are getting older
I'm thinking of that chip on his shoulder;
I sometimes wonder if he's dead,
Missed by his friends like a hole in the head!
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Disappointment in Old Age
The days drag by. I fritter
Them away. Old and bitter,
I call my fellow humans apes
And live on a diet of sour grapes.
But what did I expect? Did I think
I'd earn my living with pen and ink?
That everything would be handed to me on a plate?
I'm wiser now but it's too late.
I realise I've missed the boat,
And now my enemies can gloat
While I'm searching for what I'll never find,
That elusive treasure, peace of mind.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Punishment for Love
Taste the sweet fruit before it turns sour!
Bask in the Eternity of love's brief hour!
Lucky to know her, lucky to find
Delicate body and beautiful mind!
You must banish the thought of the tears that will come
When Beauty's so eloquent it has to stay dumb;
Your heart must be broken, that is the Plan
Of God who created this Fool of a Man,
Showed him the answer to Sorrow and Pain,
Then took her away to drive him insane.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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On Chittoe Heath
The crow cries out in anger
As the senile branches scrape the sky
And past the trees a stranger
Picks his way through the dead land.
The forest broods in silence beneath the sullen clouds
And there is no comfort for the passer-by
Who does not sense the danger
That the crow sees in the secret messages
From sky and stone.
Suddenly a silver flash, and a crack of thunder
Splits the earth.
The wanderer has never felt so alone.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Disgusting
I sighed and wept, then I farted
Thinking of my dear departed,
Imagine how upset I felt
That she couldn't stand the way I smelt!
I haven't had a bath for years,
But surely that's no cause for tears?
If a man can't smell like a rotting bin
What kind of world are we living in?
I reserve the right to fart at will
And burp whenever I've had my fill!
If you don't think that this is fair
You can take your posh ideas elsewhere!
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Aardvarks
The aardvarks came out one by one,
Their buttocks glinting in the sun,
And each was gay and free and wise
And each had eaten twelve mince pies.
They did not run, they did not walk,
They did not seem to want to talk,
They sat and rolled their gleaming eyes
Beneath the spinach of the skies.
O Aardvark! You're a friend of mine,
You turned my water into wine,
And when I'd nearly lost my soul
You saved me with a sausage roll!
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Antoinette
Antoinette would love to please,
Her tits hang down to touch her knees,
Her pubic hair is sparse and grey,
She fills men's hearts with deep dismay!
Her looks have gone, her breath is bad,
Her sex appeal is very sad,
But once she knew a better day
When she was young and life was gay,
She had a lot of lovers then,
No shortage of good-looking men,
Yet nothing's certain in this life
And I thank the Lord she's not my wife!
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Casanova's Confession
You're very, very mistaken
If you think I am a monk -
I go round rejuvenating
Old ladies with my sp*nk!
And it isn't just the old ones
I pleasure with my charms,
The young ones to are desperate
To hold me in their arms!
I give them what they long for
And do it all for free,
It's simply my vocation
This 'Sensual Charity' -
Don't be so goddam jealous,
When all is said and done
I may be over-zealous
But I do it just for fun!
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Valentine
I may be nearly sixty
And I've had a drink or two,
But in my lonely moments
I often think of you.
You seem so very gentle
And I don't know what to do,
I'm feeling sentimental
But are my instincts true?
Would you like to have a go
At being more than friends?
Please don't answer with a 'no'
Or even 'it depends'! !
I always try to do my best
And my question is sincere,
Tell me, do I pass the test
And will you call me 'Dear'?
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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