My Genes
My genes have just abandoned me
And taken off my son
To far exotic places
Looking for more fun.
They never even warned me
Or said a last goodbye
They thought that they knew better
And o'er the sea did fly.
It really came as quite a shock
This infidelity
But genes care not for feelings
Or nationality.
Their loyalty is suspect
They are quite devoid of spines
To put it impolitely they're
Two-timing little swines.
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poem by John Carter Brown
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Little Poem
Little poem - Lot's of joy
Happiness - A little boy;
Any troubles? - No indeed
Satisfaction? - Guaranteed.
Little poem - Lots of fun
Indians red - Cowboy's gun;
Nothing hurting - Dreaming sweet
Golden days - Life complete.
Little poem - Lots of woe
Complications - To and fro;
Heavy heart - Troubled night
Little lesson - How to fight.
Little poem - S. O. S.
Searching for - My happiness;
Nothing doing - Ticking clock
Beating heart - Heavy knock.
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poem by John Carter Brown
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Idiotic Idiom
The Anglo-Saxon idiom
Is a tax upon the brain
I mean, just what have cats and dogs
To do with heavy rain?
And if I'd like a cup of tea
(As often is my wish)
No problem, 'cause our kettle's
Never yet been full of fish.
Are people really 'all at sea'
When troubles they are braving?
And should men be commited
Just for laying crazy-paving?
You may have a funny feeling
Which can't be laughed about,
And how come something without legs,
Like money, can run out?
Yes English, to a foreign ear
Must seem a puzzling lingo,
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poem by John Carter Brown
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I'm not an Ape Man
'Mankind has descended from monkeys'
I heard on the telly last week;
The scientists say that it's certain,
I say that I think they've a cheek.
Just because our design is so similar
To monkeys and apes and baboons;
I don't reckon those chimps in the advert'
Have a clue what to do with those spoons.
I'm not fooled by their lovable antics,
And the 'smiles' that play on their lips;
It's an insult to dress them like humans,
And force them to drink P.G. tips.
We sit them in front of a mirror
Like a schoolmaster would do a dunce,
Then say: 'yes they've got self awareness'
If they do not attack it at once.
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poem by John Carter Brown
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Sam's Ring
The other day our Sammy
Did a very silly thing:
She bought a can of pop
And then she swallowed up the ring!
We took her off to hospital,
So she could be x-rayed;
They couldn't find the blessed thing
But Sammy weren't afraid.
The radiographer she saw
Showed Mandy, (that's Sam's mum)
The picture of her insides,
From top, to tail, to tum;
She pointed out her organs
Just like a guided tour;
But where the ring had got to,
She couldn't say for sure.
There seemed no point in searching,
She said we'd have to wait
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poem by John Carter Brown
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The 5 Nonsenses
I can tell that a SMELL is a far greater thing
Than an ugly old dog, or a bird on the wing;
Or a chocolate frog, or a phone on the ring,
Yes a smell is a far greater thing.
I can HEAR that a tear is a terrible pain,
Like a slap in the face, or a race in the rain;
I just know that the snow once again will complain,
That a tear is a terrible pain.
I can TASTE a loud noise as it beats on the door,
With a sledgehammer grin and a coconut roar;
Will it ever give in, will it shout out for more?
The loud noise as it beats on the door.
I can TOUCH a good joke with a bargepole of lead,
I can laugh it to death with my humorous head;
If I turned it around I could thump it instead,
This good joke... with a bargepole of lead.
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poem by John Carter Brown
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A Parent's Lament
'How many times have I told you,
Behave, and just do as you're told?
Stop messing about in that bedroom,
Come on now your tea will be cold.'
'If you will act the fool at the table
I'll take your meal off you you know;
And make sure your shoes are not dirty
If right through the house you must go.'
'If you're off out to play now just listen:
Don't go where you're told not to go,
And make sure you're back when I've told you,
No later than quarter to four.'
'How many times have I asked you
To pick up your clothes off the floor?
I'm warning you now it's the last time,
For goodness sake PLEASE close that door.'
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poem by John Carter Brown
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The Old Box
Whatever is on the old box
It don't matter,
Some people just sit there
Their eyes getting fatter;
Their brains being dulled
By the flickering screen,
By the adverts that urge them
To buy what they've seen;
They worship their telly
And won't move an inch;
If the house caught on fire
Well I doubt if they'd flinch.
It's a puzzle to me
How it has so much power
To keep people glued to it
Hour after hour;
Film upon film and then
Soap after soap,
With a life such as that
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poem by John Carter Brown
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The Lottery Monster
Get you purses out ladies
And rattle your cash
Get along to the ticket-booth
Go have a bash;
Your pounds and your pennies
I'm longing to see
I'm the Lottery monster
So listen to me.
The Lottery monster
He has to be fed
He lives on cold cash
Just as you live on bread;
So throw any caution you had
To the wind
Your jackpotted dreams
To six numbers are pinned.
The holiday money
You keep in that tin
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poem by John Carter Brown
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Spelling
I'm fascinated by the way
Our language comes unstuck,
When all the rules of spelling
Look as though they've run amok.
You wouldn't BOUGH to an audience,
Or swing from the BOW of a tree;
No wonder it's hard for foreigners:
It's hard for you and me!
When looking for admittance
We don't K-nock on doors;
We knock, the K is silent,
Just like the G in gnaws.
And people, places or things, to me
Were always known as nouns;
I find it odd that ladies then,
Don't sleep in their night-GOUNS.
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poem by John Carter Brown
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