Pigeon Blues - Richard Fleming

Pity us poor pigeons, please,
forced to perch on roofs and trees
for the statues that we sat on
have been overturned and spat on.
All those worthies of the ages
have now been encased in cages
lest the mobs, now judge and jury,
desecrate them in their fury.
Statues are a pigeon’s toilet:
put one up, we’re sure to soil it
with a coat of guano splatter.
Bring them back, don’t pigeons matter?

Richard Fleming

I Wish I Was Winnie the Pooh - Tony Gardner

I sometimes wish I was Winnie The Pooh
Rambling Five Acre Wood all day
I'd have no money, but lots of Honey
And plenty of time to play
No going to work or Income Tax
No teachers or going to School
Just dawdling around on Pooh-Stick Bridge
With Piglet and Eeyore the mule.
Of pots of 'hunny', I'd never be short
So it's often you'll hear me say
"Oh, don't I wish I was Winnie The Pooh
Rambling Five Acre Wood all day".

Tony Gardner

One Man’s Evolution, Or Lack Thereof - J. Archer Avary

I didn’t come quickly to poetry
I never did find it that cool
What caught my attention
Was punk rock aggression
And showing my ass like a fool

Pursuing the simplest of pleasures
Like drugging and women and booze
I wasted my youth
Spitting three-chorded truths
When I thought I had nothing to lose

Lamenting my twenties and thirties
My foibles remain unsurpassed
Repossessions and ex-wives
And workingman’s strife
Leave those terrible years in the past

Now I’m much older and wiser
I’ve mellowed like expensive wine
I’d sooner forget
Than dwell on regrets
It appears that I’ve turned out just fine

What lies ahead for the future
Oh where in the hell might I be
Pushing up daisies
From down in my grave
Or charged with disturbing the peace

J. Archer Avary

Borderline - Lyndon Queripel

On the other side of time I stand
It runs like sand through my hand
From the black hole of the soul
Release a word of peace unplanned
To echo through this promised land

It seems we must have come too far
You can’t remember where we are
Our shadows run under the burning Sun
Searching for fragments of trust
In powdered gold and diamond dust

As tears of truth from hollow eyes
Part exchange lies and alibis
With no sweet retreat from the heat
Lock the window and bolt the door
Your clothes don’t fit you anymore

Illusions of hope surround the haze
Your gaze is reflected in a daze
It’s no surprise to recognise
In the mirror of mercy and love
The only one you’re not scared of

Sirens scream like a dream in space
A dark star fallen far from grace
It flashes through the midnight blue
Then disappears without a trace
Another unsolved borderline case.

Lyndon Queripel

Troubadour - Ian Duquemin

You're carrying on like a troubadour jaded

Singing your songs from a time that has faded
Lyrics of meaning, though sung of a past
Each generation so wrongfully cast
Speaking of freedom in poetic words
Flying so high you could sing with the birds

You play your guitar with a heartful of passion
Dressed in the clothes that were yesterday's fashion 
You sing to the crowd that has gathered around 
Rooting your feet to the earth on the ground 
Spitting out protests of conflict and war
Hitting the strings till your fingers are sore

Everyone's here but is everyone hearing? 
Songs with a voice they are all disappearing 
Nothing rebellious happens today
There's nobody out there with something to say
Does anyone care 'bout a song anyway? 
And who gives a damn what the disc jockeys play? 

So carry on singing if nobody hears you
Be sure the words they are honest and true
Turn up the mic even if it's too loud
Raise up your voice to the dwindling crowd
If nobody hears it don't mean they can't listen 
If some of them did then you learned them a lesson 
And all of the others that turned a deaf ear
It just means they can't face the truth that fear

Ian Duquemin