Getting Old Can Be So Unkind
I'm fifty-seven going on ninety-nine,
My joints are falling apart,
The eyesight I can no longer align,
I'm missing a beat in my heart.
I can't bend over to pick things up,
Because of the pain in my back,
I can't hold the kettle to fill up my cup,
My joints are all under attack.
I get breathless walking half a yard,
It's a struggle to get out of my chair,
My pain has left me mentally scarred,
As has my thinning hair.
I can't even chew my food any more,
They'll soon be buying me a wreath,
Eating anything has become such a chore,
For I've lost all my bloody teeth.
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poem by Bri Mar
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You're An Individual Not An Appliance
How do we arrive at who we are,
What is it that makes us unique,
While some stand still others go far,
What makes us strong or weak.
Some turn out good while others are bad,
Is that really down to our genes,
Do they really dictate you'll be sane or mad,
Are there really no in betweens.
Some are born leaders while others are led,
But leadership can be learned,
We can all have a say in what lies ahead,
With willpower you can achieve all you have yearned.
If genetics are true then we don't have a choice,
About who or what we will be,
Does that mean none of have our own voice,
If it's true then none of us are free.
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poem by Bri Mar
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You Are Now Dead
Drivers are all idiots apart from me,
They shouldn't be allowed on the road,
When people see me I'm sure they'll agree,
With great skills I have been bestowed.
Yes I've had accidents but they're never my fault,
It's the idiot in the other car,
My knowledge of driving they should exalt,
I'm the superior driver by far.
Women as drivers are all second rate,
As are all those red blooded males,
Learner drivers I really hate,
They remind of slow crawling snails.
I drive through puddles at great speed,
Whenever I see someone walk by,
When you see me coming you better take heed,
With common decency I refuse to comply.
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poem by Bri Mar
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You Will Always Be My Father
I dearly loved my Father,
Till I was about twelve years old,
Then he started to go astray,
An affair is what I was told.
I fought with my Mother and Brothers,
They said he was just a rat
He was my reason for living,
My Dad could not do that.
At first he disappeared for days,
I didn't know where or when,
He could have been alive or dead,
But then he'd appear again.
There was never an explanation,
He should have given me that at least,
Then he'd show from out of the blue,
With his gifts from the mystic east.
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poem by Bri Mar
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We're Still Here The Humans Have Died
The animals on Earth have decided to meet,
Almost every life form will have a seat,
The Human Race have not been invited,
The reason is we have been indicted.
For mass destruction you stand accused,
The world's resources you have abused,
It has to be said at all others expense,
For neglect of duty there is no defence.
Rainforests decimated, oceans polluted,
All over the planet your destruction's commuted,
In the name of God you continue to destroy,
That '' superior'' intelligence you refuse to deploy.
As the planet warms extinctions grow faster,
You refuse to believe because you are the master,
Master of destruction should be your title,
Vast wealth over health to you is more vital.
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poem by Bri Mar
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Entry To Heaven Will Be Declined
We outnumber the rich by billions to won,
Yet we the majority lose out on the fun,
The reason why we are being undone,
That answer we will now try to find.
While they live in splendour we live in hope,
They don't give a damn that we can't cope,
As we slide further down life's slippery slope,
They enjoy being wined and dined.
As they rake it in we're put on a freeze,
Spiralling prices everyone agrees,
While we struggle to get by they thrive on sleaze,
We must be out of our mind.
We are responsible for making them rich,
While their lives go by without a hitch,
Our lives are blighted by a tax filled ditch,
In corruption the prosperous are enshrined.
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poem by Bri Mar
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It Is You Not I Who Is Blind
I only see what I need to see,
That's why I don't feel fear,
The only thing I worry about is me,
I hear what I want to hear.
I speak only when I am spoken to,
You won't hear me express an opinion,
You will not see me do what others do,
I don't mind being classed as a minion.
I do what I want not what others dictate,
That keeps my mind in good stead,
This way I have only myself to placate.
Which means I can keep a clear head.
If there is trouble to be found,
I always look the opposite way,
I'll make sure I never stick around,
You won't see me if there's any affray.
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poem by Bri Mar
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Beauty Is In The Eyes Of The Beholder
You can see it and hear it, it's a sensual taste,
Yes It is truly a gift to behold,
You can touch it or smell it on our senses it's based,
Aesthetically it begins to unfold.
So what is beauty how is it defined?
Is there a right or a wrong?
What is beautiful to someone who's blind?
To who or what does it really belong?
It can be hearing a song or a voice you love,
Which proves it doesn't need to be seen,
Thinking of the joys of Heaven above,
What you love someone else will demean.
Meeting your partner for the very first time,
Seeing your first child come alive,
Touching the peaks of those mountains you climb,
Feeling pride as your offspring thrive.
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poem by Bri Mar
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I've Been A Dirty Low Down Cheat
Sport is all about taking part,
Forget about the fastest start,
Regardless of how you must depart,
You can take the heat.
Who in God's name says these things?
Do they know the misery losing brings,
If you're last an alarm bell rings,
It makes you feel incomplete.
We aspire to make it our life's mission,
To win the day that's our ambition,
Life is all about competition,
Humans were made to compete.
We are prevalent in every sport,
The dangers we are willing to court,
The truth is something we do distort,
Or punishment they will mete.
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poem by Bri Mar
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Remember This Could Happen To You
As I sit here homeless do you really care?
What exactly is it you see,
Try looking deeper as you stop and stare,
There's a person inside, yes it's me.
Are you perfect, have you never done wrong,
To judge others what gives you the right,
To get to where I am doesn't take long,
Look in the mirror you may well get a fright.
Get a job you bastard you're a layabout,
That's just one of the comments made,
I am hurt deep inside when people shout,
It reminds me that I m alone and afraid.
Do you know my reasons for being this way?
If you could would you let me explain,
Or would you tell me the message I convey,
Is I'm nothing but a down and out pain.
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poem by Bri Mar
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