Tuesday, 13 March 2018

#Poem about #flatearthers #pseudoscience

The Earth Isn't Flat You Numpties!

I can't believe what I have read
Have swathes of humans gone brain-dead?
I feel the stupid leaking in 
When I engage with folk so dim

The argument for a flat earth dies
As soon as you use your bloody eyes!
Do trees grow diagonally toward the rim?
To escape the central gravity within?

No they don't you big soft shite!
Nor is it always everywhere daylight.
The sun would shine across the disc.
But of that there is no actual risk!

To many the facts that bear this out
For starters water would soon go out
We'd burn alive under cancerous rays
From the sun no shelter in constant days

Without the magnetic poles and fields
We'd lose that essential protective shield.
So stop this now and do some reading 
Loud shouting on the web, the lies, is feeding.

A test for us, is this concept
To see what bullshit we accept.
However stupid the science, or the leader.
We lap it up like bottom feeders.

©Joanne Oliver 2018

Thursday, 25 January 2018

After all the hoo-har about young female poets I wrote this. Proper Poet #poetry #femalepoets #snobbery

I must be a proper poet because I'm old.
I can't be berated for all the books I've sold.
I'm not popular or even infamous

-You wouldn't notice me on a Gateshead local bus.
A proper poet I'm not that young.
No rapping rhythm upon my tongue.
Not popular in the local scene.
Not on the radio, not that keen.

I must be proper my stuff's not lauded 
By young hipster journos or applauded
In expensive cafes in London town
I don't spit words with an intense frown.

I must be proper. You haven't heard of me.
To talk of, write about, spout hyperbole.
I just write stuff I'll keep my head in sonnets
Poetry gets radgy with a bee in its bonnet!

Saturday, 22 April 2017

The Colliery Baths #bigpitmuseum #coalmining #poetry

The Colliery Baths

The shouts of harsh friendship and rude songs of love.
The faces all soaped up as steam rises above
The coal dust not shifting from those ingrained backs
The feet sore and aching, the muscle it knacks
With hope for a hot tea two veg and some meat
And at last some warm comfort from her arms, so sweet.

Monday, 23 January 2017

#icoulddoitbetter (than #trump)

I could do it better

If only to take the heat from the pan

The subject deflects the blame if they can

Not a thought for the victims, the ones who must pay

All that matters is the blame must be wafted away

Enough cash to be brash in the whitewash of truths

Any past misdemeanours pushed aside, just errant youth

We all know what you’re like and we don’t think it’s right

But we don’t quite know how to take up arms to fight

Peaceful protests that dwarf your audacious parades

Those women and men left your day in the shade

Don’t let your arse get too settled in that gold velvet chair

There’s whole world of people know you don’t belong there.

I just hope sense prevails and you are rightfully impeached.

I don’t want any violent conclusion to be reached.

It’s the first time I thought I could do that job better

Than that strange pervy thief with hair like a red setter

I’d be canny as pres, I’d look after the good folk

Yes, even I could do it better than that effin Joke.

Friday, 28 October 2016

The World Was Brown..#poem #70s #nostalgia

The World Was Brown

Remember when the world was brown?
People still had "nervous breakdowns"?
Polyester was on our backs.
We got 10p taking pop bottles back.

I remember playing with glass
Brown and green jewels broken at the edge of the grass.
On there we played at being pop stars
While creepy blokes cruised by in beige and blue cars.

There was always that "funny" bloke down the street.
We didn't know why but we weren't allowed to speak.
A whole world of weirdness they hid from our minds.
While that freaky blonde pervert on telly patted behinds.
Remember when the world was brown.
I do, and girls were kept right down.
Police women promoted must have been slags.
It had to be true I was told by my dad.
A woman with a clipboard on a building site too.
Telling men who knew better than her, what to do.
I won't say the words that he used for that trainee.
But that little-girl me never forgot and it shames me.

When the world was all brown and the trousers were wide
And a house key could be put under a mat just outside.
TV programmes made fun of the gay or not white,
Or the women, or the short, tall, fat, foreign, or the disabled, all alright!
But there's folk who still hanker for these sepia times.
Do they want all this back plus the brown fashion crimes?
Well I don't, I've been there I'm not going back.
And, I tell you,  no brown can never be, the new black.

Thursday, 22 September 2016

I Remember ..a poem about loss of power, aging.

I Remember

The times you told me what to do
How and when to speak
Instructing etiquette down the Club
How as a girl, to be meek

I saw that power fade as I grew
A teen who formed new views.
But failed to see, the change in me
Was smaller than the change in you.

As years went on you lost your way
Conversations faltered.
Your comprehension of our words,
Your view of life had altered.

As in a bubble you now live
We try to call to you.
And act as gatekeepers to the world

To stop it hurting you.

Thursday, 30 June 2016

#gove #may #borisjohnson #corbyn ...messy politics and we will pay for it.

What a mess

Well I don't want Gove, and I don't want May.
Seems like we're screwed by them either way.
We have a choice between the rebirth of Thatcher
And a bloke who looks rather like a child catcher.
As for Boris, it looks like he's out of the race
Like the coward he is with Brexit on his face.
As for Labour I feel no pride in they way they've behaved
The last hope for socialism soundly betrayed.
We're all doomed! Doomed, I say without any rudder
Untill we install the new duplicitous bugger
An the onward we go off the edge of the cliff
steered there 'cos some toffs keep having a tiff.