Blue Chip Scam.

BLUE CHIP SCAM.

YOU SO CALLED TRAVEL COMPANY BLUE CHIP
YOU ONLY KNOW TO STEAL AND RIP

YOU ROBBER, INTERNET SCAMMER
NO DIFFERENT TO A FLY-BY-NIGHT
YOU COWARD, DON’T DARE TO STAND AND FIGHT
THE RUSTLING YOU WILL HEAR IS THE TURNING IN HER GRAVE BY YOUR MAMA

THAT CLICKING MOUSE MUST FEEL SO SWEET
REMEMBER..ALL THINGS COME TO AN END
THE TIME HAS PASSED TO MAKE AMENDS
YOU’LL FEEL YOUR COLLAR BEING LIFTED…RIGHT OFF YOUR FEET

I HOPE ONE DAY YOU’RE BROUGHT TO BOOK
IN A FOREIGN JAIL WHERE YOU SLOWLY COOK
YOU’LL GET YOURS SOMEWHERE
YOU’LL KNOW THE TASTE OF FEAR.

[...] Read more

poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Flight

Passing through the air
The many examples that make you stare
Soft, noiseless, slow in searching
Bobby, flittering and rapid
Expansive..using all possible area for soaring
Flight, envied by so many
Copied of a fashion to test for pollen
Meticulous examination of a feather
How it catches the air and and protects whatever the weather
Some beautiful and Taught as wire
Enables them to go higher
Ruffled, soft and gathered to form down by their mothers
Mimicked by mammals using folds of skin
Which doubles as blanket, warm while in
Dare to compare running for your life
To have the nerve to call it flight.

poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Chainsaw Massacre Again

An arborial life is lost
it may not have been burnt, but it's been slashed
the wicked ringbark
a slow death like lost fins of a shark

it may struggle and throw out sprouts
it speaks another language so you dont hear it's shouts
all over the world man does this deed
he has no excuse but greed

he thinks he doesn't need them, he lives only seven decades
his children wont have them to swing on nor to shade
that stout trunk that says majesty
humans dont see, it's just another settee
there are a few that feels the pain
and try repreive to gain
they fight on for every tree
to get international amnesty.

poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Person Of Interest

In the twenty first century big brother is at large
Don't slip up, he's there ready to take charge
Viewing our movements as we shop and slip along in a hurry
Zooming in to pick out from the throng
Furtive behaviour of teens who hang about too long
Yes, a suspect..long of limb, clean cut and oozing character
He's been clocked, surveillance steps up
His table manners, how he holds his cup
The female of the species focuses and decides
Take hold of an arm and take him for a ride
She decides and maps out his future and his fate
This person of interest will succumb when he
accepts a cheeky request for that first date.

poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Aniversary

Anniversary.
It’s your anniversary, it’s bound to be a beautiful day
A chance to repeat the things you used to say
The sweet nothings with which you won the prize
And brought out the sparkle in her eyes
The make believe star to which you both made a wish
Lets hope up to now it’s still bliss
You’ll both laugh at the night she ran away to her mum
All because she had a bit too much rum
The night you didn’t come in because you were at your mates
And she set about smashing up all the plates.
Tonight you’ll go out and rekindle your married life
Because after all the many trials...you’re still man and wife.

poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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A Titanic Loss.

A titanic loss
Near countless rivets
Mountains of coal, to heat and form and melt
Blood, sweat and lives to match the pride that was felt
Lavishly fitted out, no expense spared
Many hundreds to experience the virgin berths
Excitement and celebrations as they board the biggest ship on earth
Stupendous, colossal....titanic
They were not to know of the horror and panic
In that icy sea with no help to come
Insufficient lifeboats with only room for some
The dignity with which they met their end
Husbands and wives, family and friends
In The deepest grave to be laid to rest
After being found they'll be left where they are..we know its best.

poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Certainty

CERTAINTY.

`TOMORROW IS PROMISED TO NO MAN`, NEED NOT BE SAID
YOU’LL JUST FIND ONE DAY, ”HOLD ON, I’M DEAD.
I HAVEN’T BEEN TO SPAIN, HAVEN’T BEEN TO FRANCE.
I’VE HAD A BIT OF SMOKE THAT LEFT ME IN A TRANCE
I’VE SEEN A FEW SUNSETS, HAD SOME NICE WINE ‘
EVEN TRIED TO GROW MY OWN VINE “
WE KNOW NOT THE LENGTH OF OUR DAYS
WE DEPART IN MANY DIFFERENT WAYS
WE SHARE OUR TIME BETWEEN REST AND PLAY
AND MAKE NO PREPERATION FOR THAT FINAL DAY
WILL YOU HAVE A CHOICE B’TWIX ST PETER
AND THAT FEARED GRIM REAPER
YOU’RE PRIVELIGED TO HAVE KNOWN THIS WORLD YOU MIGHT SAY
AS THEY GATHER TO CAST YOUR ASHES AWAY.

BRIAN ROY SKYERS

poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Boris To The Rescue

Here we are on our way in our brand new bus
We’re all eager and excited, at least some of us
We’re on our way to Luton Town
We’ve stopped but we haven’t broken down(wink wink)
Looking for passengers on the hard shoulder
An hour later, we’re still looking far and yonder
Rescue will come, we don’t know how
I’d suggest we hitch up to that cow
We’ve got a man who’ll save the day
His name is Boris and he’s on his way
He sends a message “Fear not, harbour no mortal dread
You can survive thirty days before you are dead”.
We won’t be bowed, we’ll keep a stiff upper lip
After all, there’ll always be another trip.

poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Free At Last.

Free at last from the yolk of dept
Unlike the gambler who chooses to make another bet
In future before you sign, think, not so fast
Times gone you'd save, but that's in the past
Those offers that are too good to be true
Before long they've snared you
When your financial advisor makes it easy to get your cash
He'll slink away with glee as he increases his stash
No one held a gun to your head
You simply wanted some quick bread
Free at last, no more watching for each statement
No more counting each payment
After all these years of constant drip
With no chance of a payment to miss
The end is in sight and also your pain
So, in future, think and think again.

poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Tempestuous sky

THE SKY IS DARK AND VIOLENT
HERE AND THERE A PATCH OF GREY
YOU CAN'T TELL IF IT'S NIGHT OR DAY
IMAGES APPEAR AND DISAPPEAR
AS THE MINDS PRIMEVAL INSTINCTS STRUGGLE TO BE CALM
GARGOYLES AND DEMONS THAT WOULD BE SURE TO HARM
HARRIED CLOUDS RACE ON, CHANGING THEIR SHAPE
IN A BID TO ESCAPE
IT WOULD BE THE YOUNG BIRD THAT FINDS HIMSELF ON THE WING
LITTLE REALISING THIS IS NO TIME TO SING
HOOFED ANIMALS TAKEN ALOFT, SHOULD BE FIRMLY PLANTED ON THE GROUND
MR WIND TAKES IT'S BREATH AWAY SO IT MAKES NO SOUND
HAVING SHOWN IT'S CAPACITY FOR FURY
THE WIND DISSIPATES GIVING OTHER ELEMENTS A GO
IT WON'T BE HAPPY AS ALL COME OUT TO PLAY
WHEN THE SUN BRIGHTENS THIS DISMAL DAY

poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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