What have you got against me?
I’ve done you no harm at all.
I try so hard to talk to you,
It’s like talking to the wall.
And you’re messing up the place I live,
You’re cutting down my space.
You’ve got rid of nearly all my friends,
You make tomorrow hard to face.
Soon I’m sure there’ll just be me,
I don’t like the stakes you play for,
What did I ever do to you?
I’m feeling hunted more and more.
Your behaviour’s so uncivilised,
I hate the things you do,
I bet you’re oh so very glad,
You’re not a dolphin too!

Steve Flavin Bold - 15 years, 5 months, 18 days ago

WHAT YOU SEE.....

They wandered through the chilly hills
Of the frozen arctic wastes,
The family of polar bears,
Was in no particular haste.
When the son turned to the father
And said, ‘Ere dad, tell me do,
Are we truly pure-bred polar bears?
I mean, pure bred, through and through?’
Dad said ‘Yes son, we’re pure polar bears,
The purest there can be,
Our bloodlines are untainted son,
On that you can trust me.’
‘So there won’t be no brown bear blood in us?’
The little son replied,
‘Can I be sure of that then dad?
I’d be unhappy if you lied’
‘My boy, now I just told you,
We’re the purest you can get,
Polar bears down to the bone
On that son, you can bet’
‘So great granny was a good girl then,
And only went with her own kind,
She never danced with any grizzly bears,
Dad, this is playing on my mind’
‘Son I’ve told you we’re of the purest breed,
Our family tree is clean,
Your background boy’s pure polar bear
Do you see son, what I mean?’
‘So we don’t got no marsupial-
Like in our DNA?’
‘Son, I said we’re pure blood polar bears,
Will you just listen when I say!
Now why d’you keep on asking son?
You’ve asked and you’ve been told’
Looking at his father the boy said
‘Dad, I’m bleeding cold!’

Steve Flavin Bold - 15 years, 5 months, 24 days ago

Fallen
I remember falling off a bike,
Nearly broke my bloody arm
And I once fell from a treetop,
But didn’t do much harm.
I tumbled down a mountain in Zimbabwe
Looked a complete and utter fool,
Like when I fell off the diving board,
And almost missed the pool.
I’ve fallen down a flight of stairs or two,
At least a time or three,
I’ve fallen in and out of favour
And felt like heaven fell on me,
I leaped blindly from an aeroplane
With just a ‘chute and faith in God,
But tripped over walking down the high street,
Not looking where I trod,
I’ve felt my face drop and my shoulders fall
When something spoilt my day,
Fell back on dirty deeds a time or two,
When there seemed no other way.
I fell two floors from a balcony,
Playing silly bloody games,
Fell into company I shouldn’t have,
With only me to blame.
But, I never fell from anything
Like I did when I met you,
I wonder if I’ll ever land,
And I wonder if you knew.

Steve Flavin Bold - 15 years, 6 months, 9 days ago

Desmond the dragon was dreadfully cool,
He’d go out for a stroll, before dawn as a rule
The boy had more "front" than the beach line at Brighton,
Though he had no intention to scare, shock or frighten.
Desmond had youth; he was suave, debonair,
He liked nothing better than to crawl from his lair
And to walk through the woods with the dew on the grass,
It made it much easier, when wiping his arse!
So laid back, so groovy, as cool as the breeze,
With two massive wings and his four knobbly knees.
Golden green scales glowed with life on his back,
His smile was beguiling, his jaw held no slack.
But, Desmond was troubled; he had problems and some,
Unlike dragons of yore, Desmond burnt from the bum.
It would start with a rumbling, then a feeling quite queer,
As a great jet of flame would erupt from his rear.
Into the sky he would soar like a bird
And fly out, over water dropping great burning turds.
All things being equal, it’s no great surprise,
That Desmond had blisters on his back legs and thighs.
In search of some comfort for his ravaged rear quarters,
Desmond swooped down, to cool off on the water.
Forgetting his weight, all six tonnes tail to head,
He sank straight to the bottom; poor old Desmond was dead.

The moral of the story is: - If you dump obnoxious waste into the water system for no better reason than your ass is on fire, Mother Nature will surely screw you in the long run.

Steve Flavin Bold - 15 years, 6 months, 10 days ago

At the edge of the world, stands a Lost & Found,
It’s a small grey office and high security pound,
Eventually, everything comes in through its doors,
To be stacked on the shelves or just sit on the floor.
Three small grey clerks keep the fat ledgers balanced,
Attending their tasks with the greatest importance.
Up the top; sit the evils, that have befallen mankind,
Lower down you’ll find love, sitting quietly blind.
In a corner rest the vanities of past rulers of the earth,
Against a back wall, is a big bang, unwanted since the planet’s birth.
Every emotion, lust and feeling, gathers dust along the racks,
Until some soul presents his ticket and claims his urges back.
They’ve got cartons filled with egos, boxes overflow with hate,
Beside some rather lonely goodness and a small trunk: holding fate.
Misunderstandings by the truckload, about a gross of sad mistakes,
Several thousand genuine articles, at least a million shady fakes.
Still they got counted in and they’re all booked out,
The salad days of plenty with the desperate times of drought,
Sweetness by the bucketful, cruelty by the yard,
Rows of soft and sensual words lead off to sex where the door is barred.
Every fear and misconception, bead of sweat or tear of joy,
Each last thought to raise a chuckle, irritate or just annoy.
All the single socks you ever lost, as the wash went round and round,
Sit on the miles and miles of shelving, at The World’s Edge Lost & Found.

Steve Flavin Bold - 15 years, 6 months, 12 days ago