Beasts of Fortune

Beyond our comprehension. 

The cruel abuse of youth.

With astounding crass objections

Denials of the truth. 

These beasts with no restrictions.

Borne on their wave of wealth

Stealing lives of women

And worse they killed by stealth

Shielded by their fortune

Hiding in plain sight .

They must be held to account.

And feel the fear they dealt. 

Everything Will Be Fein

"Don't be silly" you say to me

Over a beer or a wine

"They have our best interests at heart don't you see?

That everything's going to be fine."

He's just a joker, he's just not like that

His heart goes out to us, that's what he meant.

You've got the whole meaning

All twisted and bent.

It's not like his friend put small children in cages.

Or his family grew rich in apartheid 

As if he would meddle in foreign affairs

And show strong support for the far right.

Oh no it's not like a real Nazi salute

Like everything else we inflate it 

Of course it's just benign and innocent at root. 

So Musk  you won't mind if we debate it! 

Theodora

I hold your gaze

With my blue eyes

You choose a card

I feed you lies

My voice is honey

My manner beguiling 

You miss the signs

Just see my smiling

How kind I was

A drink to buy you

You see the room

Start to spin by you

The darkness falls

As I lean in 

Perchance to kiss you?

No, to sink teeth in

A quiet corner 

Of a darkened pub

You came here seeking

Sinful love

Instead I drain you

Of your sweet blood

And then release you

For the thieves

To empty your pockets

As I silently , leave. 

Is This When It Gets Better?

Is This When It Gets Better?.

They say it gets worse

Before it can improve. 

But it's got so much harder

I'm finding hard to prove

This theory in a nation

That's lost its drive to love

Hope has taken flight

Like a eager turtle dove

They drive the mental breakdowns

They tell us we are feckless

To give up work in despair 

They say that we are reckless

Yet people they are dying

More so at their own hands 

As no one's their to help them

As no one understands. 

The rivers flow with sewage

When they were full of fish

The paths all lose their width

As nature spreads its fingers

And stretches through each slish. 

They starve the council's coffers

Then blame them for their cuts

A clinical gaslight tactic 

Explained with ifs and buts

They leave our veterans in the streets 

Then blame asylum seekers

They know the money is all there

These slime still seek to cheat us. 

They blame the poor guy with a phone

That gets him help and safe warm refuge

They blame your neighbours with a telly

Who shelter from the deluge

Of debt and hard demands for cash

That batter their souls completely 

While ultra rich just get much richer.

And hide their taxes neatly.

I think it's time we had a change

I hope its for our betterment 

I hope for the mending of our land

Our people and our temperament 

I can but hope we learn to love 

To care for humans fleeing

I can but hope for a kinder nation

To itself to its people, human beings. 

Sweet Fanny Adams

 

Sweet Fanny Adams

A man of means was Frederick Baker

Worked in legal offices

Thought he could simply take her

An 8 year old child with her sisters

They felt it safer to stay together

However he insisted

He offered coins to Fanny first

Then tried to buy her siblings exit

Send them off to sate hunger and thirst

But then he simply legs it

But not without first grabbing the girl

While her sisters looked in disbelief

He ran into the hop fields and hid with her

His status empowering the child thief

Distraught were her family to lose sweet Fanny

Then came the news from a farmer:

A mutilated head was displayed on some stakes

No doubts on who had owned it

The police found blood on Baker’s clothes

He thought he could escape but he’d blown it

With parts of the girl slowly coming to light

He was tried for the gruesome atrocity

He was sentenced to hang before a Winchester

And duly executed with some due velocity

A tale of a upper class entitled bad’un

Who thought he could just dispose of Sweet Fanny Adams

Joanne Oliver 2023

Bunny

I'm just a bunny

A bunny, say I 

I look so cute 

With just one eye

I wander through

A land so dry

I wonder why

I make you cry!

Your world has gone

You silly folk

Your leaders did that

When they "mis-spoke"

I have ten tickles

They're not to choke

If I wrap round you 

It's just a joke

Be glad I'm here

Bunny so sweet

Look at my little bunny feet! 

A taste of home 

The countryside

Where rabbits roam

And foxes hide. 

We'll be so happy

In this toasty world

Where dust is smoky

And green fumes swirl

So take my "hand"

My human friend

Be with your Bunny

Until the end.

Rise Up

Rise Up 

Working class Tories

You brought us to this

You soaked up their stories

As they took the piss 

"They're doing their best, man"

Their failures excused

No mistakes by these liars

We're all being used

They'll feel not a twinge

As thousands more die

We are just their livestock

They're bleeding us dry

When will we discover

The warriors within?

The need for some fairness

Must be under our skin

With food getting scarcer

And warmth a rare treat

We must reject that new normal

And rise to our feet!

Didn't Like To Say

The windows painted open by the council

They didn't like to say

No heating but a coal fire

They didn't like to say

Single glazing draughty frames

Old bathroom we'll fit our own shower

They didn't like to say

Pay the rent for 50 years

Fit a kitchen themselves

Someone else said the house is unfit

They didn't like a fuss

Finally windows and central heating in

He dies and leaves her alone

Dementia creeps in

No one likes to know

They didn't like to say

Don't face it say nothing 

She didn't like to say

Until she can't cook them 

A nice Sunday lunch

They didn't like to say.

J Oliver 2022 

Boronavirus

Boris boris where are you?

Boris oh Boris what should we do?

"Go out or don't, maybe wear masks, or leave them at home and wipe down your phone."

You gone red to green does this mean the virus has gone and been?

"Well no but let's open things up old bean!"

Boris please tell us, please tell us, do? How many shall die before this is through?"

"That's not my concern dear I work for the banks. For you and your family I give not two w**ks.  "

We're glad you have bred while we haven't got bread. But whilst we love babies....why must ours be dead? Why our mums,  siblings grandparents and dads? While you sit so safe in your no 10 pad?

"Well I'm the PM and my word is the law. So go fight the virus folks! That's what you're for!"

Water Workers

So many water workers

Keeping the water flowing

Whether in their homes or not

Keeping the country going

Fixing pipes, the leaks the floods

Putting their lives on the line

Though you can thank them

Dont get close!

Give them 2m all the time! 

There's folk in the labs

Keeping your water safe

Tasting and testing for us.

They can't stay at home

And still do their job

They have to be in work with no fuss.

There's people on phones

Juggling children, pets homes

Keeping your finances steady

They are there to help you

Wherever they are. The water folk always are ready. 

The ones working drains

They know who to blame

When the poo starts to back up the pipes

It's people who didn't quite get the message.

DONT FLUSH THEM . ..PLEASE WILL YOU BIN WIPES!

But they know you matter, and you play your part

In times when a virus is for us gunning.

So #stayathome now if you can and they will

do their best to #keepthewaterrunning 

Full English Brexit

Full English Brexit

I've tried to understand

I've tried to make some sense

of where we're going with this "plan"

I think until I'm tense

To see the other side

Is the way I've always thought

But no one tells me 

The good things this purports

Will we get more good jobs

Will food be cheaper still?

Will people stop attacking others

And get healthcare when they're ill? 

Where's the money gone?

And why does it always appear

When they need to pay for their cockups

So No Deal is not to be feared?

Yellowhammer was kept under wraps

By the interest-vested old chaps

And the truth has still failed to slay them

With an anagram that is Orwell Mayhem.

Countless millions wasted on greed

instead of attending to dire public need.

I'm ashamed of our country

It's lost its own way

I hope it never comes

Our No Deal Brexit Day

Someone Stole My Spacehopper...a poem by Joanne oliver

Someone Stole My Spacehopper

Someone stole my Space Hopper in 1979.
I didn't have much to myself
But that Space Hopper was mine.
At the bottom of our garden in my den under a tree
I hid my orange friend there and went in for my tea.
Some skally took a liking to my Hopper and took it away.
I'll never know who did this thing to this very day.
I'd had years of fun bouncing around on him.
Doing handstands over him and using him like a gym.
If you see a lonely space hopper in the West side of Hull.
Send him back to me and of happiness I will be full.

Someone's Son....a poem about homelessness

Someone's Son

From the point that you were born
You were loved and adored
As your mother held her hands out
And you tottered across the floor
A giant step for tiny man
To learn to walk and speak
And Daddy planned your future
Putting cash away each week.

Now you look down at your fingers
Nails all darkened with the dirt
Avoiding eyes of those who pass
Some spitting words that hurt

You were not to blame for this you know
The road your life has taken
Each day a struggle to survive
As in a doorway you awaken

Stuff happens in a family
People die, a marriage falters
There's times when there is no safe place
For a family's sons and daughters.

You try each day to carry on
Avoiding those who'll sway you
With obliviating substances
That eventually will slay you

Still they look away from you
And think you're the afflicted
You're not. Not you. You've kept it clean.
You're not as yet, addicted.

But every day is harder now
The hope of rescue waning
A young man is not vulnerable
And needs no help when it's raining

But once you were someone's son
Someone's pride and joy
Inside you still are, afraid and lost
A homeless little boy.

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

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!

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.

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.

#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

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!

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.