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Molester & Pester
all that glitters is not gold
it spawns raw edged paedophillia
a poisoned promise, tarnished with mould
halo hero to vile villain
drugs, drink... not enough
couldn’t you satisfy hookers
instead of becoming child fuckers
yes... you both... profile prats
the bastard king... you disgusting rat
well, ‘take that’, you eurovision farce
seven.., won’t be heaven
back to the wall
try, try,
but you will fail
to protect your fat arse!.
ON VIEW
(AT THE TATE & TURNER)
after Bathroom Floor by Tracy Emin.
no bed... but towels and flannels instead
bouncy ‘hot-red’, new colour, street cred
lots of ‘fake steam’, nothing tidy or flat
but knowing our Tracy’s work, you’d expect that
a symbolic pair of knackered boxer shorts
balled up with soap on rope, couldn’t cope
not even with a crutch to stand on!
in the cob-webbed corner, by an overflowing snake basket
next to a condom casket
lie pair’s of daunting Doe Martins
and original, shoddy 70’s Kickers
protruding from the four tops
are ‘not so sweet’ crumpled knickers.
(for s.s and her Victorian secret.)
turfed out
I’ve got my piece of the action!
emerald blades of nostalgia, history.
living, growing, developing
Wembley sprung turf
plucked, rescued, it would now seem
from waste-land Wembley.
a ghastly graveyard
overseen by twin concrete cenotaphs
testament to folly and greed.
even the coiffured semi-circles of sand
sprout wiry, weary weeds.
time for the sacrificial goat
HO HO HOEY!
planet football out played
by much smaller satellites.
they have a ‘pride-full’ park
a stadium packed ‘full of light’
built by Master builders McAlpine
and dontt forget
the arena that Jack built.
forget the demonised ‘domed done’
that was pure waste
this is a huge, unforgivable
NATIONAL DISGRACE. |