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  Jul 17 Syd
Qualyxian Quest
Troubling proclivities
Depression through my days
Psychiatric medicine
This life is a Maze

In gratitude for my boys
Keep them forward led
Keep them keep them keep them
Long after I am dead

              Courage in the Dread.
  Jul 17 Syd
Kalliope
Sitting at this table,
My sisters in their place,
My brother at the top,
With a baby by his waist.

We’re mostly parents now,
With our kids in tow,
But when I look at your faces,
I see the little kids I used to know.

We all have our own lives,
Of our own creation,
No longer just play pretend
On some summer vacation.

A brand new generation,
Being raised by us,
They’re little and young and free,
And I love them all so much.

Even when I don’t see them,
Or weather cancels our plans,
Being a sister, a mother, an aunt-
The best roles I could ever land.

And we’ll sit here at this table,
Loud, chaotic, and such,
Often I’m sad, honestly mad,
But in this moment, life has given me so much.
We don't play hide n seek anymore, or hideway to sneak smoke ****, but hearing all the children laugh and play- for now, what more could I need?
Syd Jul 17
Peasants squabble,
the homeless freeze,
repeating the mantra:
Spare change, please!
Magazines for bedding
The Big Issue, Forbes Rich List...
Maybe we should eat the rich.

Billionaires in ivory towers,
snatched milk,
now turning sour.
Poundland Tories,
in desperate hours
“Five more years!” they stubbornly hiss...
Maybe we should eat the rich.

A 2p tax cut
up their sleeve,
while children starve
and pensioners freeze.
So out of touch
those pompous ******...
Maybe we should eat the rich.

If monkeys exhibited
hording behaviour,
they’d be studied
to see what makes them tick.
The thought of watching others starve
makes me sick...
Maybe we should eat the rich.

We could solve the energy crisis
in two quick flicks
render blue fat
for candle wicks.
No point in playing
Champagne socialists...
I think we should eat the rich.
A rewrite of an old poem from a couple of years ago.
Syd Jul 16
Creativity
is a prism in the mind’s eye.
A spectrum of knowledge enters,
a rainbow is projected.

Stupidity
is like electricity
it takes the shortest path
with the least resistance.

Insanity
is mistaking traits for objects,
and thoughts for forms of energy.
It forges syllables into art
Syd Jun 29
They pine for days that never were
through *** stained teeth and stagnant slur
where blackface clowns and monkey chants
still echo loud in bitter rants

The snow was whiter, summers long
they hum some half remembered song
no climate lies, no “woke” offence
just ignorance dressed up as sense

They clutch their flags like sacred skin
wrap rot and rage and hate within
A pint, a bet, a Brexit cheer
no future grows, but still they sneer

Stagnant days spent waiting
wishing something meaningful
to happen
Pints, regrets and the stench of gammon
Inspired by my local working mens club.
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