Attila the Stockbroker Poems

TOO MUCH PRESSUREThis angry young man is still angry, but older
And now Father Time has just pissed on my shoulder.
`You`ve got to grow up, John - you`re way past that stage.
You`ve reached that condition they call `middle age.`
It`s time to be quiet, say `yes`, watch TV -
High spot of the week, a nice dinner party.
Polite conversation until you doze off
The topics: house prices, taxation and goff.
(That`s golf, by the way, in case you`re unsure
Not pale folk in graveyards discussing The Cure)
Now just look at you in your Seventies gear
With your punk rock and football and microbrew beer
Political poems and loud, angry songs
You still want to change things and right the world`s wrongs?
You stand up and shout and you get in a rage:
It`s really not right in a man of your age.
On top of all that, and I don`t mean to frighten -
Worst of all for your blood pressure: you support Brighton!
They`re not very good and you don`t want to die
So sit on the couch and watch Chelsea on Sky....`No.Sure, I`ll take the tablets, and drink a bit less.
If you fancy a game, I might play you at chess.
I hope that I`ll make it till I`m ninety - five.
But one thing`s for sure, Death - you`ll take me alive!OH FOR THE DAYS WHEN `SPAM` WAS JUST A MONTY PYTHON SKETCHThanks to the internet
my wife is a very happy woman.
My penis is now forty-seven feet long
it stays erect for weeks at a time
and it is garlanded by hundreds of genuine Rolex watches
acquired with the millions I have won
in various Albanian lotteries
and the billions generously deposited in my accounts
by the grateful executors of the wills
of innumerable African tribal chiefs
all mysteriously deceased
along with their entire extended families
in improbably gruesome lawnmower accidents in Liechtenstein.
My account with Lloyds has been suspended.
(I don`t have one.)
My wife`s breasts
enlarge and reduce, spontaneously,
as we use our 95% discounted software
to gaze at the pictures of our free timeshare apartments
enjoying continuous multiple orgasms
whilst admiring our genuine Chinese historical artefacts
purchased online from Hong Kong.
Our garden is full of imported rubber.
Not rubber sex toys
or even rubber boots
just: rubber.
I have more free Coldplay MP3s
than you could wave a suicide note at.
I also have Kate Moss Suction Power.
I don`t know what that is,
but I am hoping it may be useful
next time the toilet needs unblocking.
I now know the Cyrillic alphabet
and the Polish for
`are you embarrased about your size?`
Every morning, a new surrealist word juxtaposition appears in my inbox
as the spammers seek to avoid the filter.
It turk may bake!
Crabmeat be Paris!
Out evoke in robins!
Decomposing lark`s vomit engulf Crystal Palace!
(ok, I mad the last one up.)
And, to prove that truth is indeed stranger than fiction
in our brave new world,
my website is recommended
as one of the top fifty stockbroking sites
on many search engines.Now that really is Pythonesque.ATTILA THE STOCKBROKER
I`m sure some of you have a relative like this.......POISON PENSIONERI`ve tried to work it out but I just can`t see
How a cretin like you is related to me
You`ve just one brain cell and that one`s a mess
Parroting rubbish from the Daily Express
No, not the Sun: you`d say that was a `rag`
Delusions of grandeur from a jumped up hag
But don`t get ideas: you`re as thick as a shoe
Poison pensioner - this poem`s for youI`ve had it up to here and I`m cutting up rough
Distant relative? Not distant enough!
Ever thought of space travel, prejudiced cow?
I`d suggest Uranus but you`re up there right now
You`ve a monochrome vision of a world that`s dead
A million Reader`s Digests inside your head
I`d like to put vomit in your cheese fondue
Poison pensioner ­ this poem`s for youYou worked all your life in the public sector
And all you ever did was whine and hector
Moan about the people who fought your cause
Cheer for the Tories and their union laws
You were born in a council house you clueless bitch
But you side with the Right and you vote with the rich
Bowing and scraping to the privileged few
Poison pensioner - this poem`s for youYou`ve a medal for meddling, that`s for sure
If this was my house then I`d show you the door
But my mum needs help and you`re here to see her
So I sit and listen to your verbal gonnorhea
Right now I wish I was in her head
`Cos Mum won`t remember a word you`ve said
Your compassionate act just got a bad review
Poison pensioner - this poem`s for youBossy yet servile, some combination!
Paralysed spine of a lickspittle nation
Could have been a builder, ended up a tool
Lifelong victim of divide and rule
You`re a Ragged Trousered Philanthropist
Who wasn`t even waiting for the boat you`ve missed
You`re a turkey voting for Christmas too
Poison pensioner - this poem`s for you!ATTILA THE STOCKBROKER
USE OF ENGLISHThe phrase ‘politically correct'
is not at all what you'd expect.
But how has it been hijacked so?
I'm going to tell you, ‘cos I know.You'd think it should mean kind and smart
Radical and stout of heart
A way of living decently.
Well, so it did, till recently.And then some cringing, nerdy divs
Sweaty, misogynistic spivs
Sad, halitosis-ridden hacks
all wearing lager-stained old macs
with spots and pustules and split ends
and absolutely zero friends
(Yes, living, breathing running sores:
The right wing press's abject whores)
Were all told, by their corporate chiefs
To rubbish decent folks' beliefs
To label with the phrase ‘P.C'
All that makes sense to you and me
And write off our progressive past.
Their articles came thick and fast
The editors gladly received them
and loads of idiots believed them.You`ll find that most who use the term
Will only do so to affirm
Sad, bigoted, outdated views
they`ve swallowed via the Murdoch news.ATTILA THE STOCKBROKER
Inspired by a headline on the billboard for our local newspaper...SHED FIREA perfect English pageantry:
an act so gloriously mundane
New neighbours put up eight foot fence
So strangers now will thus remain
As English as our small town press
who`d like so much to dish the dirt
but headline uneventfulness:
`Local shed fire. No-one hurt.`A cod war veteran complains
about some kids skateboarding by
The Daily Mail sells very well
And he and it see eye to eye
The homeless sleep under the pier
But most round here don`t seem to care
That`s city life, another`s news.
Shed fire, though. Police aware.The poster shouts it, black and white
A headline story, that`s for sure
And there`s a pull out TV guide
For folk who rarely ask for more
And two, more lively than the rest,
Are chatting in the autumn sun.
Not in their back yard, thank god,
But shed fire. Little damage done.ATTILA THE STOCKBROKER
for more klick here: http://www.attilathestockbroker.com/