Poem Number 208 - Biological Making - 26/3/1987

The biological making of a complete dreamlike woman,

Is to the man not true to be, in the future to him.

His eyes sparkles at each individual woman’s appearance,

To generate madness and sexual excitement, of all.

The first look is the breast size,

(Or otherwise known as ‘Bust’),

To ensure that the breasts are fully grown,

To its fullest function.

Each woman has different sizes and shapes,

But all have the same body parts and functions.

The hair will grow or be cut in different stages,

This is good for the man to pull out.

The most important and special part is the vagina,

Or in slang words means, ‘ Cunt’.

This brings beautiful life to small wonderful babies,

This part is the start of biological study for scientists.

Genetics from both men and women,

Cannot be scientifically broken down.

Yet each day is bringing new developments,

Towards research and how each human is born.

Poem Number 207 - The Art Of Selection - 10/3/1987

The art of selection from other selections, is progress,

The more you can select from, the more there is quality.

It is a an art that takes time to adapt, to it,

It is a result of a person with self-satisfaction.

In our every day lives, we choose and select different items,

We choose the food we eat, the habits we do, the work desired to do, and so on…

Simple selections are east to overcome,

It is the difficult ones that make you use your head.

The time you choose one item from the other,

Possibly may bring a better quality of the selection you choose.

Your perfection of selection will be entirely decided by yourselves,

No one can set the standard of your selection, except you!

The most important selection in a single person’s life,

Is the special selection of choosing your partner for marriage.

This type of selection will determine the future of your life,

It will and should bring a decision of excitement and satisfaction.

So you can see that everyone is involved or affected by every day selection,

No one can say that they don’t select anything everyday.

This poem is one of the selected poems; you have decided to read,

That is a fine selection! 

Poem Number 206 - Battle Of Competition - 3/3/1987

Company Directors and Chairman of big business,

How will you achieve the profit, of a year to come?

How will your investing fund arise?

Will they result from the total invested interest, left over?

Also how will you have your company administered?

Will you have one General Manager and sixteen assistants,

Of which, individually they are responsible for another sixteen managers,

And who in turn, are in charge of thirty-two to sixty-four employees, each?

Well, the decision is yours. You are the main chief.

The chief of Indians, who maybe in the forefront of battle, everyday,

The battles of fighting for survival, rights of ownership,

And the most important battle: competition.

poem Number 205 - School Children Of Yesteryears - 2/3/1987

The screams and yells of today’s school traveling children,

Bring back some of my golden memories of years,

Some of them are replayed with today’s growing children,

Some of these are attitudes, which have disappeared, although.

In the early years of primary education,

I was lead by my mother, to the school.

In afternoons, I waited to be picked up, by my working class parents,

Who in turn, would be keen to listen to all the eventualities of the day.

I remember one special day, when I so tried hard,That day, was a prize winning target, for jokes and laughter,

Known to all as ‘The teacher’s pet award’!

In later years of my Primary education,

There I had learnt what being bashed up (before and after school0,

Was all about and I didn’t take it, so kindly,

I told my parents, who in turn told the principal, who in turn took no disciplinary action.

Over to a newer more sensible school where dressing was the trademark,

It took me, years to find and make good friends,

Trying different guys, each year,

But to my surprise, I had won many a friends, in the last year.

It was my sporting interests, of which I had to disclose,

And show the strength in sporting major sports.

With my own activities as a captain of the ‘Second Eleven’,

To publicizing the ‘athletics’ and ‘first fifteen’ on the school P.A. system.

It was for Mathew Reed that got myself started,

His fitness at long distance and also his character,

I told him as the ‘Captain of the Athletics’,

That I would go to every meeting that was held.

So there I was, school learning with shouts of joy,

To every ‘Waverley College competitor of blue and gold’,

They were encouraged to perform at their best,

To win all the events of the day, ending up so excited about winning.

The next was Rugby Union, where I got to every game, after playing soccer,

To be number2 cheerer against a loud mouth caller,

Calling out the individual names at each player, by mockery,

Which enhances their individual ability to perform, very well.

But there was a game of a draw, where the teammates were upset: all in all,

This was the second last game of the long season.

And even I was moved at this!

So during the week, I had my own planned tactics.

These were set simple but hardly anyone would do it,

For it would take guts and firm determination, to do what I had done.

As a non-elected prefect of our year, I awaited on the queue,

Deciding when will I have the guts to go up and tell.

The assembly was not going to be long,

The assembly was for Andrew Ugarte to receive the Prefect badge.

I was waiting to be brought onto the microphone,

To speak to seven hundred students, of all ages.

Nerves and all tensed nerves, were clutched in the written paper (held in my hand),

Maybe something like receiving an award for not doing anything.

Was the total complete feeling, I had been feeling within my self,

Never before I had brought myself forward, to speak, publicly to a crowd.

And just for one moment………just for one flash of a moment,

I was thinking of what the guys in year:  would say to me afterwards.

Would they cut me off from themselves entirely and roar out to me, with laughter?

No. I thought not of evilualities, thoughts of the shock and goodness for all.

I rushed my words while I had the assembly quiet as can be,

The words of sweet support drowned out of my mouth, first.

The after affect was of entirely complete satisfaction,

A self-satisfaction that would lead to more than strength, to me.

Then the ‘Pat on the back award’, was repeatedly commented to me,

The headmaster’s reply to me personally, was showing his care towards me.

The Saturday of the big game arrived at ‘Knox County’,

And I scored my third goal and last goal of the year.

My mocked speech, jokingly knocking every player: one by one,

Made sure that this would ensure that a bit of revitalized spirit, was put back in these young men.

I wasn’t as nervous speaking then, like the School assembly,

And now I could see cheers and smiles creep up, in their stirred faces.

Applause from the coach, including the team was thanked to me,

My heart wanted the result of the team to be the result of my speech.

And yet, Warwick Negus before stopped me: warned not to speak to the team,

My answer to that was that the team resulted in thrashing the opposition 36 to 9.

The main feature of the game,

Was when for small minute I felt the fame.

When the players carried me off the field,

When by right it should have been our team captain.