Evil Poetry

Barry was a perfect citizen And would never break the law Having the odd fag or two Was his only flaw.

One day on a cigarette break In the works smoking spot He dropped the finished butt Amongst burgers going to rot.

Then there was an enormous roar And Barry was taken aback In the road facing him Appeared a giantic crack.

The council offices opposite Started to crumble The Mayor’s quarters…

The LibDems have been kicked out of bed After five years the Tories have no need. They leave with a crooked back And a power related STD.

UKIP do not want to share with Tories They want to go out on their own. The Tories prefer having single beds Before they set up together a home.

SNP have turned their backs on Labour After a friendship well crafted. They wanted the affair to be platonic. Until…

The Pub With A Fishy Name

There is a pub in the Midlands

Which goes by a fishy name.

Be careful what you say in there.

Or you won’t be let in again.

It won’t be swearing that’ll get you barred

Or the starting of a fight

But suggestions to improve the beer.

Or compliments when it’s right.

So when next in Leicester

Try a friendly pub instead

The place many recommend

Is the good old Kings Head.

Or compliments when it’s right.

Buy Quill 2 Ink 2 Paper by Mr Ken Duddle (ISBN: 9781490388724) from Amazon's Book Store. Free UK delivery on eligible orders.

Hands across a table Ceasefire agreed The dove of peace sings For a day,two maybe. Then a shot A child lay dead. A mother weeps The dove flies away. Hands across a table Ceasefire agreed.

As the darkness of the night looms in The Dream-Maker visits us in our bed. He rides a fine steed of fiery black With reins as fine as a spider’s web. By his side he carries a golden sword He never slows down, never lingers. A salesman dreams of his next commission As the Dream-Maker rides over greedy fingers. With silver armour that glistens in the night He rides through the brain of a radio…

Armistice Day

The old soldier reflects During a two minute lull. Shiny medals worn On clothes drab and dull. Wearing a red poppy With feelings of regret and pride. Teardrops for comrades Who died by his side. Now begs for pennies On the city streets Looked down upon By some that he meets. Waiting for a pension Promised years before. One more statistic A hero of war.

BBC - Biased Bastard Classmates... The BBC have finally worn out their welcome... the BBC News (oxymoron?) department has become so wise in its own eyes it h...