Not all news is all the news.

Don't let the news get you down
that the guy in charge is just a clown,
It's not all bad what we create
just learn to see beyond the hate.
Not all news is all the news
it has to sell so they pick and choose.
They prey, and pray that fear will spread
'cos that's the way they earn their bread.
Look through this mist of the bad news show
the light of humanity is still aglow.
not all news is all the news .

Whatever made you ...... (cool)

Whatever made you think that white trousers are cool?
I can see your black knickers ,you Marks&Sparks tool!

I get that you want to look nice ,feel good and be proud
but that jacket you're wearing is much too loud.

So put down the glossy that brain washing shite,
look in the mirror ,you're ok ,you're allright

Cool's not for sale ,no version or chique
Cool's a state of being, fashion's for the weak.

Dirty old git.

This is one I wrote after having a run in with a girl on the train from Kings Cross to Edinburgh during the Fringe Festival. She had a nice little Jeremy Corbyn T-shirt on, badges, all the right stuff, but she also had the window seat and wouldn't let me use the plug. I leaned in and said "Does Jeremy know you're for a monopoly position on the distribution of electricity to the poor and needy?"
She sighed and carried on reading Karl Marxs' 'on the distribution of wealth' although it might have been Engels, great double act those two but I mix them up.

I've altered the setting and context (for poetic justice), but it's about being judgmental and also solidarity.

Hello ‘anon’ girl, do you remember me? 

Probably not, but I just want to say,

you were stood in the street with your leaflets

we shared a glance the other day.

Remember? I just walked by you and winked

when I passed I heard you say

“don’t wink at me you dirty old bastard,

It’s your type that votes Theresa May”.

Now that hurt ‘cos you don’t know me

That wink was a rebel salute,

‘cos what you think and say on your leaflet

Believe me, to that I’m really not mute.

I know I didn’t take your leaflet

‘cos I know what they cost 

that’s one of my rules of living 

My gain should never be your loss.

I was looking at you with pride that day

I winked, to encourage and say

This old warhorse he has your back 

Together we’ll defeat bloody May

‘Cos I’ve been there as well 

For the miners ,for peace and for gays

This struggle has been there for ever

It gets no easier in these mad days.

Now we both made mistakes that day

I walked by, your shouts weren’t a chat

We could have stood a while together

and ended this generation gap.

‘Cos we need to stand side by side

or these problems will get out of hand

If we don’t beat ‘em all together girl

We’ll lose again, face down in the sand.

(A returning hero from Syria, his mum didn't know.)

(A returning hero from Syria, his mum didn't know.) 
"He's always been a good boy, 'cos he told me so,
Always reading the holy stuff, tho' he had some quirky mates,
I was just happy he wasn't boozing, 'cos them drunks are full of hate.
Who would have thought my lovely boy would have been misled,
someone fed his brain with lies ,and now some folks are dead".

Words.

Now me and Words get on well,
me and words could tell you a tale or two
but we keep most of them to ourselves.

Words are good friends, they're always there
we're tight they can almost read my mind
they don't judge but sometimes they're hard.
(but mostly kind)
We manage to keep it quite fair.

Be friends with words, they'll never desert you
as life takes it's toll and brings pain
they'll get you through it and you don't have to call
they're only a thought away.

Hyde Park

Had a chat today with a guy
I'll never see him again
The first born son of his father ,so obviously his name was Mohammed. Nice Guy
In London for friends and business- from Paris through Mauritania.

We sat on a bench in hyde Park started to chat, we talked of the weather and the trees, of people and their needs.
In those 20 minutes we solved a lot of the worlds problems and tensions - for us.
It wasn't that difficult,
All it took,
was the sun,
some trees
a smile, and time to think ,understand and relate.

We shook hands wished each other well said goodbye.
and left with a feeling of  'maybe' just maybe we can get through.

About Safari whores.

Big Cat shot by fat cat,

fat cat pays to be the topcat,

overpaid but underloved

he compensates with bullets of extinction.

Big Cat growls goodbye

once at peace with the planet 

now excess to the executive needs

The last one is already born

ready for the likes and clicks as it 

fades into history with only a cameo role

in the selfie. Fat cats , kill hope.