Articles in Category: Poemeanderings

A collection of generally expletive and euphemism-filled rhymes and utterances.

Fake News!

He said he’d stop the Mexicans,
His words were all Fake News.
He said he’d ban the Muslims;
He said he loved the Jews.

He said his hair was all his own;
A hay bale of Fake News.
He said the crowds were bigly;
Denied his hands abused.

He said her votes were less than his;
A fuck-load of Fake News!
He said God made the sun come out,
Whilst rain filled up his shoes.

Electoral college counted;
Again he gave Fake News.
He claimed the biggest victory…
Somehow, he seemed confused.

His entourage applauded,
To back up more Fake News
Of CIA staff that clapped for him;
In fact, they stood bemused.

Mexicans, “they’ll pay for that!”;
A wall of more Fake News.
From corners, in their taco trucks,
They smiled and looked amused.

Dead, illegal voter scum
Burst forth with more Fake News;
The democratic zombies on
An inter-state vote cruise.

He said he’d bring the jobs back,
But China screamed “Fake News!
We make your stupid fucking ties
And tiny little shoes!”

He said he’d drain the swamp out:
More slimy, shit Fake News.
As billionaires all settled in
And Putin came to schmooze.

Appointing all the best, he said;
Guess what? Yep, more Fake News!
As Flynn he fled with Russian mobs
And Sessions self-recused.

“Fake News!”, said all his sycophants
They cried out “More Fake News!”
The GOP enablers all stood by
To watch their country lose.

I’ll change the rhyming structure 
To end, I’ll be quite blunt.
Fake News is gone, this is the truth:
Donald Trump’s a cunt.

Insomnia (The 3rd & Final Movement)

Trying to sleep,
Counting some sheep.
Brain’s all a'mess;
I’m starting to stress!

Yearning to doze,
Brain spasm grows.
No rest in sight;
That Sandman’s a shite!

Bored of this crap,
I must have a nap.
So then I guess…
I’ll try to “de-stress”!

No sleep from that,
I reach for the cat.
Wipe down my middle,
Then kick out sweet Tiddles.

Losing my rag,
My sanity sags.
My thoughts scream and ache:
“God, why? For fuck’s sake?!”

I start work at eight,
It’s getting too late
For even an hour!
…I’ll jump in the shower.

But fate’s quite a trip;
In shower I slip.
Crack open my head
And fuck me, I’m dead!

At last, off I go
And blood starts to flow.
My dreams down the drain
With bits of my brain.

And so, in the end
The moral dear friends
Is: showers are shitty,
Just make do with kitty.

A Swan Song for 2016

In all my years, you’ve been the worst;
You drove through like some fucked-up hearse.
Grabbed our heroes, made us cry
But now we lay YOU down to die.

Bowie, Burns, Aherne and Cohen, 
Wilder, Prince, the list was growin’.
Parfitt, Ali, Wood & Sachs,
Cancer, drugs and heart attacks.

The sadness swelled, your hunger grew;
You bit off more than you could chew!
(Or so we thought, then watched you gorge 
Fisher, Reynolds, Gill and George!)

And humans weren’t your only bent,
You sniped our famous furry friends:
Harambe, Pan Pan, others too
All wild and free (locked in a zoo).

Many more adorned your plate,
Mothers’ pride and fathers late.
As if this feast was not enough,
You thought you’d play with other stuff…

Us Brits you gave a cliff to jump;
America: a cunt called Trump.
Divided nations, left and right
And laundered Klan sheets, oh so white.

With UKIP, Klan and Britain First
You let them grunt their very worst.
A murdered MP for their cause,
The racists knuckled out applause.

Brexit, president-elect;
We tied those nooses round our necks.
With fascist cheers and bigotry;
We turned our backs on rising seas.

Addressing dopes, the dazed, the dumb;
You sent The Mail, you shat The Sun.
You told them lies and instilled fears
Of immigrants with grotesque smears.

You know, my dear, you’ve done your best
But here we stand, we’ll never rest!
We’ll fight, resist and change things round
Until this shit had been unwound.

And so, I’ll lift my bubbling glass 
And promise now, we’ll kick your arse
Straight back to Hell, where you belong
On New Year’s Eve, with drunken song!

Goodbye, you dick, please close the door,
Just slink away to nevermore.
And know we, filled with beer and wine,
Will raise our cups to Auld Lang Syne!


I meant to publish Saturday;
Suspecting you’ll take more away.
But, best I post while I exist;
For fear you’ve got me on your list!

All Works Copyright © 2017 Benedict Francis

This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.   |    Site by