Trump’s up

Come on children learn Trump’s song
here’s the chorus you can sing along
it’s easy to learn, here’s how it goes
not a lot of thought but a lot of holes

step on out before we step back in
to a different tune
the one we want to sing
grab a balloon and burst the bubble
shout out loud, cause lots of trouble.

Against the world he stands so smug
undoing all that Obama done
jibing his finger at the air
America First
his mantra and prayer

The playground bullyboy’s at large
coded up for the final charge
was it a push, was it jostle
at G7 meeting in Brussels?
shoving Montenegro out of the way
positioning best for photo-op of the day.

alone he struts from plane to plane
pulled by an unseen Russian chain
He doesn’t see the melting caps
he doesn’t see the social gaps
all he sees are the dollar signs
party sponsors standing in line
All he sees is the contribution flood
not the fossil fuel lobby drench in blood
last ditch attempts to keep their kingdoms
black gold and working class opinions
dirty jobs over clean renewables
leading the way to the world’s funeral

He can’t converse with those around,
he’s pictured sulking as they drive around
the Gulf is widening day by day
twixt him and her the gossips say.

Now world leaders turn on him
for he’s committed a fateful sin
Nicaragua , Syria the only other two
not signed up for Planet Blue

Macron says it’s a big mistake
it’s not the world we want to make
to leave our children a world of hate
fuelled by migrations, wars and shortages
slipping and sliding into service outages,
continued austerity, political circuses.

Extending out the hand of Fraternité
climate changers ‘come to France’ to stay
work with those who won’t give up
help the world in the big cleanup.

© Sheila Ash 2^nd June 2017

B*gg*r off rap!

Monday morning grey and dreary
Got up late, feeling weary
Writing scripts that’s the theory
More like dialog hari-kiri.

Words in a mush I aim to order
Sentences slush like some speech disorder
Embarrassment rings in raging terrors
No song thrush sings o’e my virginal errors.

If you want Shakespeare, here’s a sonnet
Want some Bennett, pen it in the Senate
Fancy some Chekhov, just go bugger off
Want a word mash, read some of my hash
Doesn’t make any cash
but gives us a good laugh.

© Sheila Ash 30th January 2017

Strictly Story

A dialog of voices round a table offers choices
for a poet sitting searching for that all illusive rift.
As Saturday night to Sunday morning shifts along without much warning
what poetry is there forming from sounds which coexist
to set themselves adrift in a form that will persist like those of Dumas?

The TV is on for Strictly so maybe I can quickly get some words down.
But distracted by reactions in the Twitter stream to dances
I succumb to interactions with some faceless clown.
He thinks Ed Balls’s a winner instead of a beginner
She grins at Judge Rinder as he tries to convince her
that the panel isn’t biased by scoring Louise the highest in the cha cha cha.

Ed nudges closer to a zero making him a bigger hero in the public gaze.
They watch bemused like Darcy by low scores from Craig’s harshly
raised paddle while continuing to babble about Danny Mac’s 40s.
Now they miss the best of stories, all the flashing flights of glory
coming from the greatness of Claudia’s strength and straightness.
They even fail to fathom AJ’s disguise of the chasm
between the levels of their hips amidst amazement at the lifts leaving us all a-gaga.

Their acrobatic Argentine tango to sultry sounds from one piano
playing Cry Me a River sending me into a shiver as they beautifully deliver
to Justin Timberlake. I’m waiting for the room to shake. Not for a 36!
I look askanced at it, a mistake perchance is it? Utterly entranced by it,
I would say it’s perfect, no way to correct it, they should have got a 10 for it
Professionals give praise for it, AJ take a bow for it - ta-dah!

© Sheila Ash, 2016
Posted 27^th November 2016

Fairytale Rap

Once upon a time in a land not so far way, a door that had been shut for 30 years was opened……..

Waves of light upon an ocean
dust specs dancing in Brownian motion
enlivened by the new commotion
when magic words were spoken doors flew open

Cobwebs woven by spiders’ threads
spun over a chair, across a bed
spread like a blanket thick and warm
spun over years by the spiders swarm

A mask of dust covers the Prince’s face
fingers fumble with arachnid lace
in prophesy he puts his trust
in his mouth the taste of dust
disrupted by the lightest touches
his hand reaches out and gently brushes
back the veil of time’s cessation
revealing Beauty’s suspended animation
dreaming sleeping lying unattended
by the witch’s spell suspended.

All it takes is just one kiss
for that spell to drift to mist
she awakens having dreamt of this
her very own Prince and eternal bliss.

Drrrup drrrup drrrup

Stop for a moment to rethink this
she awakens having dreamt of this?
No way do I want your tryst
bonded to you in domestic bliss!
I say no thanks to a life like this.
Me I’m off to a life I prize
Seeing the world through my own two eyes.

© Sheila Ash, 2016
posted 13th November 2016