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Wanting A Tee-Tee When you're a two-time major champ, you know A grasp of irons number one and two Need not imply an iron bladder, though The PGA's expecting it of you. If chased all day by fans of golf, your sport, No bush is safe for you to pee behind. Good money's nice, but when you're taken short, A tee-tee, not the tee, is on your mind. The fans who pan the drive that hits the rough Excoriate your stance: "too tightly crossed Encumbered legs." Since you can't pee enough, The bladder's where the lead you had is lost ... Executives of PGA, have soul— Erect a porta-potty at each hole! (First published in Light on 14th August, 2023 as one of the Poems of the Week. Story here) |
Venomous Spider Viagra is synthetic. That is why Evangelists for nature recommend Not taking it, and eating oyster pie Or cocoa, or a saffron-ginseng blend. Miraculous fulfilment may ensue Or not: the science isn't there to prop Up claims—but science does know spiders who Serve venom that prevents a rodent's flop ... So if you buy bananas and get bit, Provided you survive the spider's bite, It's hopeful that what nature put in it Delivers oomph—you learn, to your delight, Exotic-spider deadly venom will Rejuvenate the victims it can't kill! (First published on 28th August, 2023 in Oddball Magazine. Story here) |
Wandsworth Jail When I became a soldier, I obtained An education in the darker arts: Now I can groom and, if I am detained, Deceive my captors with my army smarts. Security avoidance isn't hard When you are strapped beneath a Bidfood truck On leaving Wandsworth prison, if a guard Recruited through your grooming fails to duck To check the chassis ... It's no secret that His Majesty's Armed Forces wish you would Join up, but their recruitment ads fall flat And they're short-handed. I can make it good: I got away because my training's ace— Let posters for the army show my face! (First published on 18th September, 2023 in Oddball Magazine. Story here) |
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Laziest Citizen Low-lying Montenegrins vie to veg As long as they have strength to lie in bed, Zucchini-like. A myth may well allege, If you're a Montenegrin, then you dread Exertion, but it struggles to be true, Since thrice a day competitors arise To have a pee or strain to have a poo, Concerned about how rapidly time flies— If you exceed ten minutes, then you're out ... Though all these strivers, for the crown of most Inactive, worship sloth, it's not about Zoolatry: the winner will have grossed Enormously, a grand in euros with No effort—smart, but it upholds the myth! (First published on 2nd October, 2023 in Oddball Magazine. Story here) |
Boris's Baroness Before I was installed as Baroness Of somewhere you have never heard of, I Refrained from saying much, as saying less Ingratiated me with Tory high Society, where if your head can bob Sufficiently, your star can quickly rise: Before you know it, you have bagged a job, Advising your PM to hide his lies ... Reporters raised a stink when Boris J— Or he who's neither daddy nor my beau— Nommed nine of us for lives of lordly sway. Eight failed: they smelled too rank. But I had no Such problem, since my résumé was blank. So I'm a peer for life—the utmost rank! (First published in Light on 25th September, 2023 as one of the Poems of the Week. Story here) |
Loneliest Sheep Lest you become the loneliest of sheep On British soil, marooned along a beach, Not able to ascend back up the steep Escarpment you slid down, beyond help's reach, Lamenting all the lambs you could have had If you had met another on the hill Equipped with what it takes to be a dad, Soliciting canoes for help until The beach runs out and makes you ewe-turn, as Slim hopes of rescue fade, and you're forlorn ... Hear my advice: Don't be the sheep who has Escaped the shears but rues that she's unshorn. Ewe, mimic not who's pining for her flock— Penned in between a hard place and a rock! (First published in Light on 6th November, 2023 as one of the Poems of the Week. Story here) |