GrannyRant

Special days, sun on faces,
Scolding Mothers, warm embraces
That healed a multitude of bruises

Hanky washes, bread and jam
Corned beef stew and tins of Spam
Telling lies and poor excuses

Blackened Father from the pit
Tired and hungry, fire’s lit
Stare into the reddened coals

Mother scrubbing at the sink
Socks and soap suds blue and pink
Darning socks and mending holes

Memories are made of kisses
Laughter lies and near misses
Gentle words not found in books

Brought together with such care
As a child you’re unaware
Of how a loving childhood looks

Zero, nothing, diddlysquat, Would you want to be like that
The stick-thin glamour icons that you see on your TV

Would you even contemplate? Taking something off your plate
To emulate this anorexic image that you see

Tall and chiselled, heavy makeup hides the skin that’s full of pustules
Waiting to be airbrushed from the pictures we will see

Reality is never seen among these glossy magazines
That teach the young of how to express their individuality

Being happy as you are, knowing that you can go far
Whatever you would wish to be by dreaming, working, planning

Ignore the image conscious drivel forced on us from every angle
Be yourself and learn to live with life’s personal gifts to you

Life is not a game where the prize is money and fame
But hard work, pride and reality live, love, laugh, be free

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Perpetual Life

How to put it into words, to show the way you feel,
The awful aching, soreness, where once there was a person,
The void, the blackness swirling all around and when you’ve found
That place you wish you were never there

Alone and frightened, eyes tight shut for fear of tears and sobs
We hope no-one can hear, but you cannot keep them silent
Why are they taken and we forsaken, lost in a void that is this grief
That consumes your very being, even though it’s freeing them from pain

How selfish do we become, that we would want them here, existing, listening
To our wailing and mourning and reminiscing about times past
At last they drift away, to peace, where the lines of time and pain are forever
Gone from their faces and we find things to take the place where they should be

Lie still; listen to the sound of your heart, steady and drumming time to reflect
It speaks of life without them; it is perpetual and strong, going on and on
To remind us that we can go on, they would want that, for we are them, we were formed from their being and we will live for them, forever

Millennium
Travelling on the sea of life
Living on the edge
Scraping at the dregs of life
Make your sorry pledge

Living by the smoke and needle
End it in despair
Weak and poisoned tired and feeble
Trying hard to care

If there is a God somewhere
Where is he when you need him?
Give me hope please let me share
Don’t leave my poor heart bleeding

Drugs and crime and prostitution
Living in a hovel
Governments and constitution
On your knees you grovel

Plastic bags to be recycled
Quit the fags and beer
Wealthy gents they take the Michael
Put you down and sneer

Marital breakdown is the norm
Kid’s drop out of school
Teenagers with criminal form
Breaking all the rules

Mobile phones and internet
Getting us connected
Making claims to social funds
Having them rejected

Racial, sexist conversations
Watch your P#s and Q’s
Political social intervention
Making me confused

Cyclic problems still exist
On this tiny Island
Here’s my stab at anarchy
In the year two thousand

Toilet Habits

Is it just a man thing?
Or are women like it too?
Do they take a newspaper?
Each time they use the loo?
Most people, you would think
Just go there for relief,
And once the dreaded deed is done,
They leave, that’s my belief

All the men I know quite well
Find it quite relaxing
Unfortunately for most of us
The task is truly taxing
It really is a mystery
Just what they do in there
Do they sit and meditate?
As in a trance they stare

Do they sit there for a while?
And ponder what will be?
Are they reading serious stuff?
Or just looking at page three!
We really shouldn’t jest you know
It’s a serious situation
“You must make time to go” they say
Or you’ll risk constipation

The trouble with this phenomenon
Is the timing of the beast;
They always want to go you see
When others need it least
You’ll be all dressed up to go somewhere
They should be getting dressed
Instead they’re sitting on the loo
For half an hour at best

Doesn’t matter who is waiting
Or what is going on
They still have to make some time
For half hour on the John!
Now i have given this much thought,
I cannot understand
How it takes so long to just
Complete the job in hand

So I’m asking every man and boy
To give an explanation
I ask this question on behalf
Of all the women of the nation
Why do you like just sitting on
A hard and germ filled throne
To read the Sunday papers do you have to be alone?

You could be in an armchair
With a steaming cup of tea
Feet up on the pouffe
Spending time with me
So next that they’re in the loo
Ask them to say “how come”?
They ignore their women constantly
While worshipping theirs bum!

If you enter any home
At evenings or weekends
You’ll see a man sat in a chair
Stroking his best friend

He stares down at his friend with love
He really is attentive
If you suggest he moves or speaks
He gets quite apprehensive

You see, he cannot break away
From the object of his affection
He musn’t put it down-all day
He gives it full attention

When it gets to lunchtime
He has to fill his belly
This is the only time that day
He’s distanced from the telly

You see this friend is not a dog
It cannot show him feelings
It is a piece of gadgetry
What does he find appealing?

Some people have pet names for theirs
Like Zapper flick or gun
I just cal it nasty names
For spoiling all my fun

I sit there watching corrie
He’s there with finger poised
Did you Hear something just then?
He says with every noise

He wants me to get up you see
And look what’s going on
So he can press the buttons
And change to channel one

He’ll watch the most annoying things
Like teletext and footy
I’m sure if there was nothing else
He’d sit there watching Sooty!

This box with so much influence
Is the curse of modern life
Woe betide you if he loses it
He’d rather lose his wife

So if you ever visit us
And think it’s not much fun
A favour for me, before you leave,
Steal the bloody gun!

It’s not about Love
It’s all money and greed
Far too much expense
Much more than we need

Chocolates and Flowers
Presents and Cards
Money for nothing
It’s all a facade

What happened to romance
The writing of verse
The secret admirer
It’s all so perverse

Words don’t cost money
Sentiment’s free
Don’t waste all your hard earned
On presents for me

Say something special
Show me your smile
Listen intently
Sit and talk for a while

Make time for each other
Share the same space
For once take the time
To really study that face

It’s all about sharing
And caring and feelings
Enjoying each other
What was once appealing

So don’t send me cards
On one day of the year
Each day say ‘I love you’
‘I’m glad that you’re here’