K. Morris's Blog, page 388

The Brexit Party Romps Home

The Brexit
Party romps home
Clamouring for the exit
While I (far from alone)
Retain a fading hope for remain.

Boris Johnson spoke of “polishing a turd”.
Those who shout loudest are to often heard.
The word is brexit.
We are heading for the exit,
Yet I retain
A fading hope for remain.

He Begged

He begged.
She resisted.
He persisted
Until, worn down by him
She gave in
To his sin.

They bedded.
He regretted.
But the din
Of conscience within
Can not undo sin

I am skin, sin, lust and dust

I am skin,
Sin,
Lust
And dust.
And one day I shall be thrust
Into a place
Where no trace
Of who I am now will be found
For underground
There is no sin or lust,
Only dust
Which once was thee or me

When An Extremely Precocious AI

When an extremely precocious AI
Said, “Truly I am a guy!”,
A philosophy student named Paul
Said, “you are no guy at all!”,
Which angered that precocious AI!

Crash

Door slamming.

Heels on deserted pavements echo

The lure of cash.

The girl’s heart beats fast.

An act;

Her life a car crash.

—

[image error](“Crash” can be found in “The Girl Who Wasn’t There and Other Poems”, which is available in the Amazon Kindle store and can be found here, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0155KSKOC/.

The Wind Did Sing

The wind
Did sing
To me
Of eternity,
And bring
My consciousness round
To the profound sound
Of it’s song
In the graveyard tree
Making me,
For a moment, free

The Alternative Acknowledgements (humour)

K Morris - Poet

(The below is written firmly with my tongue in my cheek. Well maybe …)!

—

I would like to thank the following for their assistance in completing this book:

My editor, for taking my meagre gains from my literary eforts. (any remaining errors are, needless to say entirely his responsibility, and nothing to do with me squire!).

My partner, Miss Slapdash for her terrible cooking which, being wholly inedible drove me back to my study thereby encouraging me to write.

My publican, M...

When I Met A Pretty Young Maid

When I met a pretty young maid
Who on a violin played,
And I asked, “can I fiddle?”
She played “Hey Diddle Diddle,
And said, sir, “you have not yet paid . . .”.

YouClean for Me

You clean for me.
I see
You mop and vacuum,
But your room
I do not see.

I pay your fee
Which all agree
is only just
For you dust
For me.

You iron my clothes
And clean my loo,
But heaven knows
I know little about you,
Who clean my loo.

The English Oak

When Brexit has been and gone
The English oak will live on
And continue to provide sanctuary
Under it’s all-embracing shade
To lad and maid
Of every race. For a tree
Does not discriminate, or hate.