Tag: poem

Third Coming
Can you hear the clapping, my gums flappin’
Moronic juicy rhymes keep the songs sap in
Religion double tappin’ state talk crappin’
Corona virus wave, another victory lappin
Third coming
Crowned for Easter
Profit from misery is a sign of the beast (er)
Baste the turkey with Brexit, the piss, Boris teks it
You vote for rabid dogs and Brexit you get sick
The virus, Zuck text it, fuck facebook and hex twit
Take you bitcoin and shove it up your arse slit
Who work for it, masses of energy, you tit
No wonder Elon want Bitcoin to hit the ceiling
Lao Tzu, Hegel and Machiavelli thieving
Layers of capital, players and neigh sayers
No socialist agenda to help or pay us
Third coming
Business class ass still got a thumb in
Free ride capital, greedy market slummin’
Mean motherfuckers own the means to living
And I keep moaning, remaining, reframing
Hot under the tongue, breath aiming flaming
Wildfires
From coast to coast
Dumbos spread the virus like its jam on toast
And my petty rhymes don’t even begin to roast
Most the guests at the park who insult the host
The planet’s not ours to save
Greed stings like aftershave
A curse on plague DJs who play the plague rave
Greeting the third wave, go live in your cave
Third coming
In the air tonight like a song
And I’m using a dolphin as a wake-shift bong
You can thank Boris Trump Putin and Ping
For the super spread of capital mutations this spring
There’s a way out, forward, just look
For the mutualist syndicalist anarchist book
It may take a while, more destruction and bile
We must crawl mile after mile after mile
Eat that third shit sandwich and smile
I know, my once tasty raps may seem vile
Some raps snap like a crocodile
Some traverse the Ganjes and Nile
I’ve mysteries and manuals on file
Spit a botticelli mosaic on your floor tile
Suck satan off kitchen foil
Cook up spies until they ready boiled
Memories well oiled
Serpent’s tooth and tail coiled
Bed and pants soiled
Poems loyal, dialed, dyed and royal real
A bargain bop bonanza, a steel
A wing on the third rail, another on the wheel
Third coming
Yower’ all-grow-ridim can’t latch me
This patch is quilted with hatched ste
Setting head fires with match key
Game set seal, Adamski
Born inwards Lee
Burrows down to Gordon Brown’s downfall
Gordon Bennet wrote it, I just float a bit
Encircle, we mote it bee line for bass face distance sting
Third Coming
Ouch, like a corkwynder to our chops
Like people without masks buying bog roll in shops
Britain top of the pops
But the band eating slops
The Queen still banking and reaping our crops
My flipper it flops, the bit penny drops
From heaven or hell, or Giza cheops
Capitals zit pops, death toll hit tops
Exceptionally sexless brexit means worse off
Oh well, so let’s make a mockery
Come see my garden pond, deck chairs and rockery
I fancy pigeons in my flockery
Writs sound odd like socks, hurry
In a global pandemic I’m sick like McFlurry
Furry like mink
Stinky like skunk
Tuned up on Sun Ra and Thelonious Monk
Third coming
Like a trilogy
We say three and in dutch it’s drie
Wonton soup and cantaloupe with brie
That predictive techx cunht catch flea
Mimic my octopus, high me, fly me
Word coming back from the grave
Forgiveness, NHS not Jesus saves
Eton enclaves and PPE chums
Suck up resources and steal the last crumbs
Tory Brexit death march to distant drums
Oh diddums, it’s only a life
Only a son, daughter, mother, father, husband or wife   
Put down the knife, pick up the pen
Write it out kids, let us begin
Hideous crimes by this lying gangerino
Pale when compared with Squintin Quarantino