A Confession from the Jailhouse
I killed my brother in a dream
And heard my mother sob and scream
For me to stop and spare his life
And put away that carving knife.
My brother was an upright man,
The successful type who always can
Elicit praise from everyone
For all the good things they have done.
He never gambled, never lied,
And never showed a bit of pride
Though he achieved far more than most -
No, I never heard my brother boast.
He was his parents hope and joy
From when he was a little boy,
And yet I claim he was a thief
Who brought me so much pain and grief.
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Traitor's Kiss
You light another fag
And watch the children play,
There is no black and white for you
Just endless shades of grey,
Did you really imagine
It would be any different today?
The maggot in your brain
Eats half your soul away
And there'll be no end of pain
However much you pray!
So go and find the priest
Confess what you have done,
'Cos you must admit at least
You laughed and had your fun,
It's in the nature of the beast
To laugh at everyone
And someone will provide
The bullet and the gun
To punish you for pride
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Strange Disease
You make me dream of ghostly fleas
And bring policemen to their knees -
I have to say, because of this,
That loving you's a stange disease.
Sometimes you make me want to sneeze
Because I've smelt some mouldy cheese,
And then afar on distant seas
I hear your laughter on the breeze
I've seen a mousetrap in your eyes
And lots of mice, and more besides,
And yet you make me dream of fleas
By feeding me on bits of cheese.
Can you explain why you do this
And won't allow a single kiss
When loving you's a strange disease
That brings policemen to their knees?
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Bloke Called Sid (Aggro-Man)
Because his day was rather dull
Sid kicked a tramp and broke his skull,
He liked to think that he was tough
And no-one dared to call his bluff
Except that day a guy called Geoff
Declared outright 'You're just a pouf! ! '
That ended in a bloody fight
But he felt really great that night,
He'd punched him hard and cracked his ribs
And put an end to his filthy fibs.
No-one was gonna call him 'gay',
Not if they wanted to walk away!
He quite liked girls but he left his wife
'Cos she always nagged him about his knife,
He'd got her pregnant anyway
And she needn't think he was gonna stay
And listen to some screaming kid
And a wife who hated whatever he did;
He'd got important things to do
Which wouldn't interest a c*nt like you,
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Micky Marlene
There was a man called Micky Marlene
Whose clothes were dirty though his hands were clean,
He said 'You'll never guess where I've been
Or the things I've done and the things I've seen
'I've walked this earth for many a year
And I've seen men's courage dissolve into fear,
I've laughed at their folly and not shed a tear
When I relaxed in the bar and swallowed my beer!
'I don't give a monkey for money or fame
And when it comes to sex I don't have any shame,
Religion is stupid and life's just a game -
There's no need for judgement 'cos no one's to blame!
'You may think me callous but I don't care;
If you're talking of suffering, well I've had my share,
I've been on my knees and uttered a prayer
But God is a figment - there's nobody there!
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Blood On Their Hands (Extended Version)
A politician told a lie
Which meant a soldier had to die -
His blood is crying from the ground
But the politician hears no sound,
He's safe and cosy far away
And hopes that they'll increase his pay.
You probably gave him your vote
But this is not a time to gloat.
He told us he was 'a straight kind of guy'
And that he'd never tell a lie.
You may forget the soldier's name,
But his parents know just who to blame,
Their son will never see tomorrow
And nothing can assuage their sorrow,
Life and death are not a game,
They're sick of Tony and his fame,
And I for one would like to see
An end to this insanity
Where life is made so mean and cheap
And men are slaughtered just like sheep,
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Wonderful Little Green Pill (conversation and conclusion)
'I'm sorry to hear you're feeling ill -
Take my advice, there's a little green pill
That could make you feel better, even give you a thrill,
Go on, have another, but remember the bill! '
'Mmmn, that's nice, and I don't need an excuse
To indulge myself freely in substance abuse,
There are those who would say my morals are loose,
They won't listen to my reasons, so what's the use! '
'I'm glad to hear you're enjoying my cure,
The pain you have suffered is too much to endure,
These pills are the best, the ingredients are pure,
They'll do you no harm, of that I am sure! '
'Can you lend me a tenner? I'm needing my pill,
I need it so badly, I feel i could kill
To get the relief it's bringing me still,
Please, don't be a b*stard, just give me my pill! '
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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An Inferiority Complex Involving Pork Pies
Why do you tell such awful pork pies?
All of us here can see through your lies,
If you once to the truth it would be a surprise,
But the Truth very often is a liar's disguise!
Perhaps you think you'll win our esteem,
We'll believe, after all, you're not what you seem,
We'll call you a hero, fulfilling your dream:
Wouldn't it be great if we fell for your scheme!
You'd better make peace with the person you are,
Try not to swagger when you walk to the bar,
Try not to boast about your second-hand car,
It's old and it's rusty and won't take you far!
It's a tragedy, really, that you feel so small,
You're short and you're puny and wish you were tall,
You'd like folk to come running whenever you call,
But when you cry out they don't notice at all!
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Cure for Poetry and the Curse of Individualism
The Mind Police came yesterday,
They kidnapped my friend and took him away,
Our house was untidy, the floor could have been cleaner,
And now he's been charged with schizophrenia.
Omitting the housework's a serious crime
As a Social Worker told me time after time -
If you want to get by you've got to conform,
Abide by the rules, fit in with the norm.
Don't talk about 'freedom' - there's no such thing,
The birds are conditioned, that's why they sing!
Writing of poetry's strictly forbidden
And if you've got talent, better keep it hidden.
I heard of a guy who had stange ideas,
(He said that good music moved him to tears!)
His home was a mess and a little bit smelly,
So I prescribed him a brand new telly.
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Hooked On You
I had my lager and lime
And you had your vodka,
We were partners in crime!
Later the lager wasn't enough
And I got hooked on the stronger stuff.
I thought I was clever,
You thought I was tough,
Luckily nobody called my bluff!
Mutual admiration joined us like glue,
You were hooked on the vodka,
I was hooked on you,
You were my Bonnie, I tried to be Clyde,
Both of us flirted with suicide,
We liked to talk and we liked to think,
Our genius was confirmed by drink!
But the years went by and, bit by bit,
We drifted apart. I felt like sh*t!
The party was over. I was alone
And you hardly ever answered the phone.
I tried to hold on to the slippery past
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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