Uncle Eric

'Two beers or not two beers? '
Joked my uncle, -
He was an alcoholic.

He died at 73,
Not bad for someone
Who'd wrecked his marriage
And career, and alienated
His family.

Two beers or not two beers?
That was the question!

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Are You a Virgin Train?

Are you a Virgin train?
I don't like to complain
But you're overcrowded and never on time!
Perhaps Mr Branson could explain
And help me finish my rhyme......
I paid my fare
And it isn't fair,
But it happens again and again! !

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Butterfly

The butterfly that flutters by
Has got less sense than you or I;
He doesn't know that he will die,
He doesn't even wonder why,
He doesn't laugh and he doesn't cry,
Blown on the wind beneath the sky,
Forever just a butterfly.

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Drug Scene

Who cares about the middle classes
Sitting on their opulent arses,
Drinking wine and snorting coke,
Respectability a joke?
This is the land of the living dead
Who put their children safe to bed
And feed their head, feed their head.....

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Drinks

Drinking lots of whisky
Can be rather risky.

Drinking gallons of gin
Can lead you into sin.

Drinking tons of brandy
Doesn't actually make you randy.

Drinking loads of rum
Can make you rather dumb.

Nothing rhymes with vodka,
Tough! ! !

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Rejection

How shocked I was
To see you in your new disguise
On a cold autumn day
With the rain in your eyes!

It's true what the poets say
That love withers and dies,
It's gone by the end of the day
With its beautiful tears
And its terrible lies.

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Sick Transit Gloria Monday

SICK TRANSIT GLORIA MONDAY
Or words to that effect,
The Latin teacher filled us with fear,
Demanding our respect.

But he's been dead this many long year,
Gone to Heaven or Hell,
SICK TRANSIT GLORIA MONDAY,
He never taught me to spell!

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Dirty Old Man

Just fancy that!
He calls me his 'love-brat',
I'm seventeen and he's fifty-four
And he's so ****ing old and fat! !
He must be bloody mad!
He's older than my Dad!
Why doesn't he take a running jump?
Nobody'd miss him
(Except his cat) .

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Cigarette

I'd like to be the cigarette
You stub out in the tray,
You've had your kicks it's plain to see
And I have had my day,
But once you really wanted me
And where there's smoke there's fire,
The lipstick on me shows I was
Your object of desire!

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Poets

Muddle-headed dreamers,
Mendacious, subtle semantic schemers,
Random rhymers,
What is your excuse?
You have no practical, down-to-earth use,
The language suffers such abuse
At your hands, and what is worse
Nobody understands your verse! !

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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