Thursday, 8 November 2018

More Guns!




More Guns

More guns.
 Need more guns.
 Arm the kids.
 Arm the mums.
 More guns more guns.
 Arm the ones twiddling their thumbs.
 Arm the dogs.
 Arm the cats.
 Arm the birds in the trees perhaps.
 Arm the cows against the bolt.
 Arm the saddest, brainless dolt. 
Give a gun to aunty Dot ...she's only happy when it's smoking hot.
 Arm the left. 
And arm the right.
 See who gun is biggest in a fight.
 We can't lose guns, get that in your head. 
We'll arm them all until we're all dead.

(C) Joanne Oliver 2018 .....18:52

Sunday, 29 July 2018

Die, Die Dementia, a poem by Joanne Oliver




Die, Die Dementia

There’s one true path they say
No: a maze of paths with no clear way
I like the grass, the sand and mud
The random walking does me good

Hard pavements hurts my feet and soul
I get no closer to my goal
By staying on the well worn street
There'd be fixed challenges I'd meet

Neurones lose their links and wither
If I don’t digress and dither
Embrace the new, and drop the old
Watch as stories new unfold

My brain’s in danger this I know
If I don’t force it to grow
New links and circuits every day
To keep the ATD at bay

It may be futile what I’m trying
But it’s better than sitting crying
Thinking I’m going like she did
While from the truth my family hid.

Heard the words from her “who’s that”
As she spied me in my wedding hat.
I  hope my son never hears that from me.
I know I’ll write some poetry!

Friday, 8 June 2018

Wind Ya Neck In Missis.


I see a lot of things go on
In music theatre, things going wrong.
I try to keep my nose quite clean
And turn a blind eye to what's seen

It's hard though as a know-it-all
To ignore the stories, blank the falls
Feeling a duty to forewarn the others
As if I'm the culture fairy godmother

That's what I'm not no matter what I've seen
I'm just someone who's in the scene.
I need to stop being a keyboard junkie
It's not my circus, they're not my monkeys.

So time it is to take a break
From social media, mind's at stake.
If I'm not workin' I'll just sometimes check in
And at last, oh joy, I'll wind my neck in.



Wednesday, 6 June 2018

Small Business Rap

Why do I not feel part of the "women" thing?
The women in power, the women in business?
The sisters are doing it thing?
I keep on trying and every time feel out on the edge, on a limb.

The cliques and the chums and the yummy yum mums,
 the prosecco and cupcakes and comparing bums.
The look what I've done! And the enforcement of FUN.

Let's meet up at 7 am, like the men, and sell harder and faster to be just like them.
Convince folk to sign up for courses and then
Not give them enough to be a winner and when
They know they can't do it, sell services to them.

Oops there I said it I see it so much
The soft sell of digital with a feminine touch.
Then there's the takers who always will love a kind plug.
But would never help someone outside of the club.

I've put up with bad blokes and their boys club tricks
But not all misogynists come joined to dicks
Some just don't like those who don't toe the line
Of what women should do
Ones who don't outwardly shine

There's always a product to sell, yes it's true
Though they tell you it's just about helping your business for you.
They've just changed the game plan as now they can see
There are thousands of small business fish in the sea.
And all of them want that magic recipe.

So stock up on cakes and prosecco by the case
And think how your business can take up more space
How your seminars could bring in those sweet pounds
After all it's a weird trick with Twitter you found
Yes you did and you'll grow as you found the sweet spot
It's the businesses who make stuff that make not a lot.



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!