Poem Number 61 - Corruption Or Not To Be Corrupted? - 27/3/1984

Are today’s issues of society, in question?
Yes. Corruption is within most of us.

Who would like to get things done in their own way, made easy?

But at the final end, all these people are all caught in the act.

An example of corruption, showing how it can occur, today:

            Mr. Beard is an employer,

            Who bribes his accountant,

            To increase his contributions.

            To extra pay his SP bookie,

            (For taxation purposes),

            And to claim on his return,

            For all robberies and breakings,

            Which aren’t true, to name each claim.

            Mr. Beard opens up new companies,

            Using all sorts of names, except his own.

   He buys up all the company shares.           

           

            His friends are all behind him, in all decisions made,

            And stand up for him, when he is questioned.

            The high-ranking officers, of one untrustworthy police                      force,

            Will not take him to court, as they are part of the goings on!

            The members of our local, state and federal governments,

            Will not make statements against Mr. Beard,

            As they will only confide with him,

            Because they know what reward, they’ll get.

            Friendly gestures, to shut people up,

   Questions may be asked, but no answers truly replied.

   One day in the future, one person will be killed,

   For brining out to the Public: all accounts of Mr. Beard.

  Mrs. Beard, not knowing what her husband has been up to,

 Will have to pay for all debts, which are overdue.

 The burial will be quiet,

 All those who kept to themselves, will shut up!

Poem Number 60 - A Young Man, I know - 27/3/1984

I have gone through a life, of a thirties man,

I hope someone I know very well, doesn’t do the same.

In such a short time, I have been ripped apart thoroughly,

By a woman, who turned out to be such a bitchy one?

If it wasn’t for good people, whom had cared a lot,

I would have been a terribly lot worse off, than I am now.

I have never laid back, in a home of my own,

But I have moved home, with other, from town to town.

Such a woman would be, who would not repair the clothes,

She would see and act indecently, to other men of those,

Who have only one thing on their mind,

And for sex, with the other mankind.

I don’t feel defenceless towards, 'her', at all,

In fact I know, I am standing on solid cement. Oh so tall!

I have been so gullible to anything put in front of me,

Yet, at present and in the future, I feel so free.

May this young man not go through this turmoil, I have been through,

As he is somewhat similar to me (when I was so young).

Shyness to talk, anger and continuous talk,

Stubbornness and silentness, is what I used to be like.

Poem Number 59 - 'H-E-A-V-E-N' - 17/3/1984

This is just great! I feel really relaxed!

Not like of recent, where my head was chopped off, by an axe.

Just a few minor problems, to sort out,

And that is all being taken care of.

Not to worry about “Michelle”, at all,

Jesus, isn’t that such a lovely feeling?

I don’t feel guilty for leaving,

As I was going along, on my own way.

                                               

Her large reproductive (or unreproductive system),

Is always filled up, in by other men’s seamen.

Like coal being shoved into a steam engine train,

As her vagina was so hard to get into,

Especially with her size, it would have taken,

Three or four penises, to actually fit into hers.

I only say one good thing about her,

And that is the word ‘Sex”,

As I really never had sex, where I came (to be or not to be?).

And I wasn’t surprised, when I had heard about….

All the fucks she had, (literally) behind my back.

For I was the black sheep, in this paddock,

Now I’ve turned to white and I’m the leader of the flock.

May she rot with every other guy, she knows or uses,

As from now on, she is none of my business, in any aspect.

May she for once, live a chained life,

Seeking husbands and not truly being a good respected wife.

Her sweetness turn to sourness, with tempers of all kind,

She is definitely not recognized, in any form of mankind.

Let her webs keep on spinning,

Until trapped, herself she is,

Not a soul to let her out,

And for her not realizing, that she is not winning.

May man not invent?

Such a sexual object like, “Michelle”.

Which, when she is programmed,

Brings out more data after data, into hell.

 I may feel a little lonelier,

Then I have ever been before,

But I’ve never felt so poorer,

Than what I have done, in the before.

 It may and will be hard for me,

To live on four dollars a fortnight,

But I will fight to survive: with four feet on the ground,

And then, I’ll start saving and think more of myself, in life.

Poem Number 58 - Lessons - 18/3/1984

Life may be difficult to enjoy,

When you have a lot of worries, on your brain.

But, the fun of life is to pull you together,

Out of the dungeons, you are placed into.

With or without help, this is important!

Your friends will advise you, in the very best way,

To lend a hand of long length,

To look at each other and still laugh, everyday!

I’ve lived life of a thirty year old,

I’ve listened and learnt the hard deals, I am told.

I will act a lot more, adultly,

And of course, more intelligently.

May the lessons I’ve learnt, in these past months,

Teach me to be strong and not fall in love, at once.

A man yet I am, to live a pure life,

I won’t ever decide to cut my throat, with a knife.

Relaxed and comforted I am, by a very nice family,

To have in mind, that my ex-lover could threaten us all.

The parents of whom, I know I’ll always feel welcome,

The front door is open, to me at home.

Special gifts have the guts and courage,

Special gifts to assist in my problems, in all possible ways.

They have given me help in which,

No other person could or would think of.

Stars are bright: a shinning light,

The darkness fills the air.

The Southern Cross is pointing out,

A place to where these friends of mine, will go!

Poem Number 57 - Waking Up! - 17/3/1984

Can a person be so blind?

Not to be able to see, what was happening behind him?

She, that is supposed to have paid bills,

She, which wanted us to save.

All things may feel, so lovely and beautiful.

Yet, they are things which, when you find out,

Make you jump up and down in temper.

As you are told of your major deficits,

A problem that creates a financial burden, for yourself.

Is this the same woman, who used to be of mine,

As real as she had turned out, to be?

The definite answer is,'No'.

Never-ending straight sex is and will always be her goal,

Even if she had her head and arms up, in the air,

And the rest of her body, dug underneath the sands and soils.

With my girl, most accounts were not paid.

My earnings, I didn’t have a chance to touch.

Money wasn’t being splurged on myself, at first,

And then the rest was spent on Michelle.

Not a word from me, could suggest changes in spending,

I now have to wait until urgent debts are cleared.

With another year to go, I’d have most likely end up in jail,

Or keep paying more debts and leaving myself, with no savings base at all.

No true marriage or defector relationship,

Would be like the one I had, from week to week.

Now I’ve got to manage my own finance,

To try to live by myself, eventually.

To see the few good friends, I used to see before.

To be back with my family and fighting for myself.

To bring back the peace to all I had known,

Whether I had been “Right” or “Wrong”,

Let me wake up, from the crisp and fresh new dawn!

Poem Number 56 - Be Gone, Unwanted Love! - 10/3/1984

Oh! Love that is so untrue,

Deny me thy presence by sight, phone or letter.

For I wish no more, thy face of unfaithfulness,

My presence of love, is so unkind that my heart seeks and demands peace.

Be gone, unfaithful wench!

You cause too much sorrows, for me to bear.

The dogs for money, found at my feet,

While thy only ask for more!

I’d give the entire world, for some peace,

If only this wench, “Michelle’,

Would get out of my life,

Be gone! Be gone! Unwanted and unfaithful one!

Poem Number 55 - The End - 10/3/1984

I thought, I loved,

But “Oh! The pain!”
To love a love, that is not true,

And that came, from a love that was not true.

I leave the love, I do not love,

To find a love, that is anew,

With the new may come a love,

That is really true.

Oh! For the new,

Oh! Love of life,

But not with you,

But with the new!

No sorrow for the love, that is untrue,

No regrets, no tears!

Just hope that I can trust the new,

After all the pain of untrue!

Poem Number 54 - Trains And Trains Suicide - 8/3/1984

Days are gone, when you used to hear so perfectly,

The 'Clickity-clack' of a train on a railway line.

Now, the noises are reduced,

And it changes from day-to-day, as well.

As you hear a train pulling up to a station,

The “Clickity-clacks” are whispered,

To everyone who is near on the train,

It looks like the train will be slowing down,

And angling itself, a little towards the platform.

Before it even stops,

The commuters, section-off themselves,

So as the train stops,

They can easily enter in or out of the doors.

There are clusters of them, rushing for a seat,

And there isn’t such difference, from the young to the old.

As you wait for the train to restart its journey,

Not one word is heard from within the carriage!

Suddenly, the Station Assistant signals the guard,

Who in turn signals the driver, by mechanical technology.

A small “Toot” from the driver and the train is on the way,

We’re all only interested in travelling to and from work safely.

But the driver is at risk, all the time,

If anything undermined, happens on the tracks,

Like the other week or so,

When one young man, committed suicide.

It happened in a carriage right next to me,

He had lost both of his legs, as the train was running fast,

And everyone heard that yell of “death”.

The driver watched in distress, the rescue attempt.

Whilst this was happening underneath, the dark tunnel at night.

I’ll always feel sorry for the one’s who take the blame,

In which their accidents aren’t really of their fault,

As most of them would be more sane then insane.

Poem Number 53 - Arguments! - 8/3/1984

Is language so necessary, to abuse anyone else?
Cruising, to the point they want to left by themselves.

How much can one human say to another human,

Picking out, opinional weak points and brining it out, to the open.

Unforeseen daily life, is expected of me,

I do what I want to do…if what I want to do is straightaway.

For I am not blind, but I can really see,

Not doing household duties, every single day.

It should not be expected of anyone, to me,

To work 8-10 hours a day, after feeling tired not even awake.

To get any part of the house cleaned up, at once,

This should be done by the person, who stays home all the day.

So, why was I hit, like a batsmen going for a sixer?

So duly unfair, was it to me.

To be told that I should enter,

Through the back door, not through our own front door!

Next time she makes requests. Like two pieces of wood burning oh, so bright,

I will remain my silence and let her stew on it.

If I explode on her, won’t it be such a great fright,

Giving her, two sticks of gelignite!

Poem Number 52 - Against Advice - 6/3/1984

Taking medical drugs to put me to sleep,

Is really not what I wanted to happen.

Yet, I had done that for my own reasons,

Sleepy, yet awake how I feel!

Against advice of others, I had taken them,

I obviously had taken them due to fatigue ness and depression.

Boy! At present I have put myself in a hell of a mess,

For more than once, I put myself under such heavy sleep.

I could not cope,

Not sleeping instantly.

This, I had not done due to Michelle being away,

It was due to the notices that blared, to keep me awake.

It doesn’t seem right to put the blame on anyone else,

And I’ll take the blame, all by myself.

I know My girl won’t go to sleep,

For the music’s so loud.

But she would definitely,

Take an interest.

Even though, I can’t get to sleep,

And the music, sound not being the best.

Poem Number 51 - Hearing Whispers....Far, Far Away - 4/3/1984

Alone I am in my bed, feeling relaxed,

Lying and feeling the warm sheets on the bed.

I’m missing my girl's warmth and her conversation,

But I can hear her whispers, from far, far away.

Closer they get, with the volume increasing,

My ears are opened to what is being heard.

Then suddenly, “Troubles” jumps up onto the bed,

At least, she doesn’t want to be fed.

There is no other woman, whom I feel strongly towards, so much everyday,

I am very proud of her to make me feel, that way,

After all that was sad and done,

I only know, that nothing will ever go wrong.

Am I faced with the agony of her never returning back?

Or leaving me to make me feel, so free?

No. I will not be definitely-leaving my girl,

Because of juvenile decisions, I sometimes try to sell.

My main concern is for us to have a child,

Which would be such a wonderful experience.

 My girl, a mother should be,

And myself, a father I will be.

My girl is a special person, who needs a hold to take care of a child,

She does not need training, to love and to look after a dear little one.

She would seem to be a gentle mother,

And to treat her child, very mild.

I’m not such a hopeless driver when I am able to drive my own car,

I haven’t been given a chance to drive, whilst someone else is there.

Please my girl, give me a chance as I do feel “Shitty”,

That you don’t give me that chance, of a lifetime.

I feel I should help you,

When you have those internal pains,

As I’d even go down on my knees,

To try and get rid of your pains.

We are in the red with all kinds of payments,

But don’t forget, we are both bringing a wage in,

To clear off my commitments

We will both always have our own way,

In our financial matters, which concern us,

But luck has not arrived…

To give me that chance.

A short spell from each other,

Will not split us apart.

This will bring us back together,

And closer will be our hearts

We will think of each, one another,

To imagine, that we’re both there.

On top of cloud nine,

And then, we really feel fine.

We have yet to set the important date,

As we’re still waiting to put through Michelle’s divorce,

A day when we’ll definitely remember,

As we unite and begin our own family members.

A day of joy, laughter and fun,

And later going towards the boiling sun,

Just lying on the sand, sun-glasses resting on our eyes,

Enjoying the peace together and forgetting of the entire human race.

Poem Number 50 - Back At Home - 3/3/1984

Sorry, won’t be enough for the hurt,

And the bad feelings, I’ve given Michelle.

I left but not for the real reason,

Not for My girl. I was not fair on her.

For the moment, My girl is one of a few women whom understands

Michelle did not want me to leave her, yet I did!

By myself, when I am at home and Michelle isn’t there,

I don’t have the same worried feelings, I used to have.

All I do to solve that.

Is keeping myself busy.

Occupied myself doing small housework,

Just by doing little things that need to be finished.

Coming back home at 'Wenty',

Throughout the whole past wee,

I never loved my girl, so very much before,

Maybe this was due to our small separation period.

Right now, I am driving around in the area,

Trying to find a house I cannot afford.

Something that I am trying to work on,

Financially, I save no money at all!

As My girl is away today,

On Army reserve duty,

Of course, I know where it is,

This does worry me at all.

The poems that my girl had recently written,

Were her own deep thoughts.

All about myself and other men,

And also, have the rest of the world.

Poem Number 49 - The Precious hand Of My Future Wife - 3/3/1984

My girl is a long way from home, again,

Army Reserve has taken her to Singleton.

I know this time; I won’t react like last time,

No! No! I am old enough not to act immature.

I have the courage, to think myself,

Not to feel so lonely without my true love.

As I wait to go to my first bucks night,

In a way, I’m not scared to go right through with it.

I won’t be drinking too much, for my own sake,

Making me think about how my own buck’s night will be.

Will I go blind and not be able to see,

Until the day, I take hold of the precious hands, of my future wife.