By the horn
Heightened excitement and a little fear
The matador faces a bull, with a crowd behind him it lessens his care
Frustrated, harnessed to entertain
Frantic charging with poor aim
Targeting this red rag, the bull has missed
While the matador plays to the crowd and blows a kiss
A stroke of luck, our bull has made contact
While the matador feels sheepish, the crowd witnessed the fact
Carried by his breeches he's tossed up high
Oohs, aahs, the crowd sees his breeches torn
He attempts to cover his modesty as they are exposed by a horn
Heartened, our bull charges again and delivers a better aim
Escape is on hand as the matador takes flight and is tossed into the stand.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Crucifixion..remember me.
BLACK CLOUDS
BLACK SMOKE
AN ANGRY MOB WITH BLACK HEARTS
THE VICTIM, BLOODIED AND WITH MANY MARKS
HIS THORNY CROWN FITTED WITH PURPOSE
THIS MAN FAILS TO BOW TO THE ROMAN EMPIRE
HE'LL NOW BE DISPLAYED ON A CROSS FOR THE MOB TO ADMIRE
THE THORNS THAT WERE IN THEIR SIDE NOW ADORNS THE KING OF THE JEWS
THE MAN CHARGED WITH SPREADING THE GOOD NEWS
HIS THIRST TO BE SATED? WITH A SOURED SPONGE
THAT STUNG HIS NOW SWOLLEN TONGUE
THE TEST OF FAITH THAT FOR A MOMENT WAS IN DOUBT
FATHER HELP ME OUT
HE WAS NOT ALONE ON THAT RUGGED CROSS, FOR ALONG SIDE ONE THEIF CALLED, REMEMBE ME
HIS DISCIPLES URGE HIM TO CAST SOME SPELLS
HE SUFFERED THERE..HE COULD HAVE CALLED TN THOUSAND ANGELS.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Survival
Modern urban life requires survival without assistance
to some, it's merely existance
animals and humans alike, congregate at the feeding site
the wiley fox will slink in and make it's choice
along with the rat with it's squeaky voice
The bag person who carries his home around
will make his selection and slip back to the underground
These feeding sites are frowned on by some
but watch and see how many come
The supermarkets put it out to landfill
they know it wont make you ill
the starving around the world would be glad to help themselves
as soon as it's taken off those rows of shelves
Soon there will be a status quo
as animals and humans alike...off to the site they go.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Chelsea..at The Shed.
TIME AND TIME AGAIN, THEY GATHER AT THE SHED
THROUGH SWEAT AND TEARS THEY SUPPORT EACH OTHER, THEY'VE EVEN BLED
FORTUNES COME AND GO, THEY RISE AND FALL
ALL TO BE EXPECTED IN EUROPEAN FOOTBALL
MANAGERS ENDURE AS SCAPEGOATS
THEY CRINGE AS OTHERS GLOAT
THOSE WHO'VE GONE ON BEFORE, SO VERY WISE
DEMAND THEY KEEP THEIR EYES ON THE PRIZE
WHEN SPIRITS ARE LOW AND THEY VIEW THEIR TALLY
FANS WHIP THEM UP AND THEY RALLY
WHEN THE PRESSURE'S ON, THE TEAM DIGS DEEP
THEY'LL BE IN THE LEAD BEFORE THEY REALIZE
RIVAL FANS DON'T FEEL WELL IN MUNICH
SOME MAY EVEN TURN TO ARSENIC
HELD ALOFT AS THEIR SAVIOR
A HUMAN GOD IS DROGBA
AN ACHEIVEMENT THAT CAN'T BE SURPASSED
AT THE END OF THE DAY CHELSEA IS AT THE TOP OF THE CLASS.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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A war, in word only.
The Everglades stretch on and on, not quite land
I’ve made a friend whose lineage goes back millions of years
Peering over the jetty, a black shape lies quietly, we’ve put aside our fears
I won’t go in the water, he won’t come on land
This is an arrangement we both understand
I’ve got my rod with fish attached
We’re having fun and know we’re being watched
I cast to him, he grabs it, we have a tug-o-war
He lets it go and disappears, he won’t go far
Again and again, we’re having fun. It’s a game we play
What else on such a fine day?
A cheeky blink, a crocodilian smile
Lots of camera clicking and clapping from a child
After a while we’ve each had enough
A wave with his tail and he disappears beneath the rough.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Four walls
Temptations everywhere, here, there
No reasons to have to regret
More and more items to have to get
A brusque shove, sleight of hand
Dare anyone to make a stand
My comeuppance which I accept
I've got to stand my ground and demand respect
I wish I was riding my bike, though
At least I'm not scratching the walls as I go through the door
Wonder what my friends are doing now?
Probably taking orders from their old cow
These four walls are all mine
I can think and plan while I spend my time
Stifled whimpering from through the wall
Keys jangle and bars clang from down the hall
Those so and sos treated me rough
And they took back all my stuff
One day my sentence will be done
Sniff.. sniff..got no one to talk to tonight..
wonder if tomorrow mum will come.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Tottenham.. Payback.
Smash it, get all the way in
We’re the police and have given a warning
We mean to apprehend those who have made off with loot
We have cctv though you don’t give a hoot
Lawlessness will not be tolerated
Don’t let me hear you say your life’s been ill fated
Microwaves, flat screen tv’s, three g phones
All items you’d want in your home
By the sweat of your brow you shall eat bread
So, an early night, a bold heart, off to work, get out of bed
We are prepared to deal robustly with looters, but what about this ten year old?
We’ll arrest him, but have to use kid gloves when we take hold
The magistrate will say he’s had a hard life
Living with dad who has no wife
Those things he’ll get to keep with a duvet thrown in so he’ll have a good nights sleep.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Delivery On Demand
Oh you newly delivered mother
The way you feel now, you wonder why bother
The cuddles and the squirming demanded yet more licking
Cleaning to keep away the vermin
Tiny, blind helpless souls you nursed to weaning
Have disappeared one by one
Fluffy, cuddly, black and tan
Not something you'd understand
Worth a ransom, you produced on cue
You can't comprehend why they were taken from you
Fitful whining behind forlorn eyes
You're not to know if they live or died
Loving strokes from your master
You're not to know what he was after
Unbounded love from you, man's best friend
Defender of his offspring, guardian of his home
Slobbering kisser of his hand
You back down on command
You soon to be pregnant Boxer bitch
You'll keep a baby one day...
[...] Read more
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Claiming My Rights
Rich pickings everywhere
Easy victims, because he doesn't care
A miniscule figure, forever ridiculed
Padded heals just wont do
That great leveller, available to all, now he can stand in any ones shoe
Cold steal, brilliantly engineered, multiple bullets
Confidence boosted, he chooses a victim
He doesn't wait for a response, he shoots him
The law does what it can
Every dog, female officer and policeman
This crime wave they've got to stem
They consolidate their efforts, there are so few of them
Running with hand full of loot
he thinks maybe he didn't have to shoot
running for freedom he ignores a warning
this wouldbe outlaw, his plans gone awry
shots ring out, he knows he will die
community spirit is all the city demands
now his gun's being removed from his cold dead hands.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Girls best friend.
This Cocker spaniel rules the roost
She takes no commands unless her interests it suits
Prawn snacks, chicken dinners
Controlling this mistress is a winner
She goggle eyes the chef as he prepares his banquet
At squiggly icing she shows no interest
Her belly has a place for the roast
The very thing of which the chef continually boasts
Slinking under the table, she surfaces beside
Now there’s nothing else under which to hide
A deft lunge, teeth take hold
She’s not to think `hot or cold?
Amid clatter, there’s also some heavy`
And now she on the retreat and covered in gravy
In his fury, chef has found a meat cleaver
Sanity returns, that wouldn’t clever
`how am I to feed them? Heaven, give me fate
An unflustered owner rescues her pooch, she orders `Let them eat cake`!
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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