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Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

If he wanted to show forgiveness
Could he not just have said "I forgive"?
To show the path to redemption, have said,
"Here's how I want you to live…"?
If he needed to show us a sign could he not
Have gouged it into the Earth's very rock?
Did he need to paint it in agony
By having a scapegoat nailed to a tree?

Daz

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Just Sayin’…

'Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"'

Like I said, I'm just sayin' …
Daz


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I ran across a mention, a couple of days ago, of the fact that it was Jane Birkin's birthday. You know, her that is famous (or infamous, depending on your point of view) for the 1969 UK number-one hit, Je T'aime … Moi Non Plus, along with her lover (and writer of the piece) Serge Gainsbourg. It's not a song I'm particularly fond of (not because of the risqué content; I just find it boring), but it did give me an idea for a post. Which I then failed to produce in a timely fashion. Ho-hum.

So here, is a post, two days too late for the event I wished to tie it to, about songs which have been banned by the BBC.

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Hand-Built By Robots

You employed us in thousands, but begrudged our pay;
"We must do this cheaper, there must be a way."
So you installed robotics and sacked all the workers
Then 'cause we weren't working you called us all shirkers.
We need money to live—that's the system you built—
But when we have none you say ours is the guilt.
Though your greed for more profit's what took all our jobs
You say welfare is theft, that we're just lazy slobs.

There will come a day when you pay for your crimes;
For the dollars you hoarded while we scratched for dimes.
With the steel in our arms and the fire in our blood
We'll re-introduce you to Old Ned Ludd.
Daz

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Please accept our love and prayers.
Such violence, we do reject—
But please don't fly your rainbow flag;
It makes us think of yucky sex.
And please don't kiss out in the street,
Don't let us see you holding hands,
Don't make us see that you exist,
Don't ask for rights or wedding bands.
For though you've suffered awful loss,
We sympathise, but must defend
Our right to keep you in your place
As not-quite members of the human race;
As second class citizens.

The curd of human kindness
Splatters from our bowels.
We label it "Condolences,"
And heap it on with trowels.

Daz


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This thing you do was then a crime
So we must ban it from our land.
Uncountenanced in olden times
It surely springs from a Satanic hand.

Nothing novel, nothing new!
Progress? Folly! How can you
On ancient thoughts seek to improve?
You should be to Hell-fires thrown
For questioning what's set in stone,
For daring to erode those chiselled grooves.

On ancient writ our laws are based ;
We'll abide with nothing that is new.
Their prejudice should rule our taste;
As once was done, so we should ever do.

Daz


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We 'ad one once, but it ran out of oomph an' Father said "humph,"
An' 'e took it to pieces an' straightened the creases,
Replaced all the strings an' tightened the springs
An' it worked again for a week or four, 'til it fell on the floor
An' its get-up-an'-go just got up an' went.
So up to the attic, it were sent.

Yeah we 'ad one once, but it weren't much cop so we left it to rot,
But now they say 'tis retro an' cool, an' they think me a fool
For pointin' out 'twas a bad design an' it broke all the time,
That the 'andles fell off at the 'int of a cough.
They grasp this "classic" wi' satisfied purr.
Useless bloody thing, it were.

Daz


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