The Chateau Wine List

Hey Waiter, waiter what is the best wine on your wine list?

Well sir we have the Chateau Rosie
That will make you go red an pofaced
Like as if you are on the public display

Theres the chateaux Faux Pass
Which is best served with a lardy dah
And false pretences that you can put upon in faces

Theres the Chateau Cordon Plonk
After a tipple will make you go all skronk
And act like a complete plonk

Theres the Chateau Cordon Blah
Which will make you look like you have been
In a blood red spa all singing la dee dahs

Le courvey en vie en rose
Which will make think that you are french
Pose with a pouting tones of look at me

Theres tha Chateau dupree
That will make you splee
and celebrate trable tops with glee
Oh look at me

Theres the Chateau rustic
Which has a bit of an upper lip taste
and leaves you speaking in high ways
like as you can pass for an upper social class

Theres the Duvone De White Ace
Something cheap and fluffy
makes you all roughy and duffy
turns you like a turd in a dress
in disgrace

or you could go for the tripple spree
Of the Courdon du plee
there are so many choices you see!

By Jeffrey Johns 17/8/2009

Little Sparrow

The Vulture in society is casting his eye on me
As I stand scared in a cage
Hearing the racheting of his giant claws aginst my metal cage
And voices are swaying round and a round
Just dont make at sound
I can hear them screaming
When trying to open the doors
Whilst menopause stream on out
And frustrations building away
Lifes just a brick wall
I can hear myself crying out
Nobody wants to listen to this voice
With the Vulture spinning around
In the Wings ruffling
As peaople are questioning my worth

Because I know I made way
For a friend to make the grave
And every day I hear these voices of blame enslave
You my son they would scream at me
You are not worth petance or pitty
They spit with an undignified sence
Of talking down to me and my family
Because I survived a 6ft blunder
Before he went under
Only months was the distance of time
One shock shook another one into action
Like a double sided slap that labled me
The sparrow is who I be

I could feel a little hammlet
Want to burn and blight me
As a stabbing lay blunt on me
Burn my name they would scream
With those ruly tones of authority
Treeting it like a witch hunt
Burning all the proffercies
Not making it clear to anyone
But just only me
For these voices I at times fear
Will get the better of me
The little sparrow that I see
That little sparrow is me

By Jeffrey Johns 14/8/2009

The Listening Post

Lost in the vacuous space of of time
As rough shoddern guitars
Rang like rappids through my ears
With the CD spinning
Creating a whir in the background
As the machine skipped and jumped
From track to track

Clunking up the numbers
As I close my eyes
To see colours and shapes
Screaming Daughter of a Looney
At the hieghtend volume of my voice
Causing Joe public to look
Almost freakishly in my direction

As I thrust and moved to the beat
Hands flapping with pecrussive feels
With 16th beat syncupations
Chanted voices wailing through the headphones
That sweated with a snuggness around the ears
My springy head and neck jerked about
As I saw shapes streched past me

I was completely oblivious
To the growing que behind me
As people turned into savaged dogs
With maingy teeth
All wanting to listen to audio products
As I was lost in a sonic wilderness

With my ears locked firmly
As one extracting wail
Lead into another foot stomping riff
The record store clerk poke me angrily
But my ears where find it hard to escape
But his near Nazi styled prodding
And screaching Look son there are other people here

I looked around and saw gangrinous Monsters
That replaced human beings
Making me humble
And turning me into a quiet soul
As I whimpered a soft sorry!

By Jeffrey Johns 30/7/2009

This is Art

Splintered into cold showers
Looking at the hounding walls
Screaming at me every waking hour
Like eyes looked like they were
Staring through barbed wire
Cutting against the skin
Like Jesus to a wire

Burning a reef above his head
And the ropes tied behind his back
Your suppoesd to be an artist
Screw voices tightening taps in my head
I looked out with my eyes burning
A rough rugged shrugged blue

I am an artist
I just don't want to follow you
And your identicate fits
With your identicate Tracy Emin rip offs
And stuck up false presentions
Of how we are to identify with ourselves
Without words rippling of corrections
To be made and how games are meant to be played

With the snob gobblins and ta ta parades
Screaming yippeee yo yippee yay
What a fantastic display
Of plastic hearted emptiness
Said with the sneers
With an una toneable sense of jeering

This is Art with a deadpan certification
You can't bend the rules
Like the the box you have as walls!

By Jeffrey Johns 30/7/2009

God Knows

My friends god knows everything
He even knows the truth about Mary
He can tell all the final scores
1-0 to the city a wind assisted debarkle
So put your pounds on the bet fair
And take all your winnings
to spend sporradically on wild eccentric things

He knew how to make all the leaders sing
Just wisper in their ear
That there is a new relligion here
He said with sence of austerie insencerity
And just sit back here and watch the action
With me on my Plaza luminated TV
You see all the best action from me

Isn't it fun when the rights wings
Hang and maime whilst the tyranicles bomb and blame
Whilst Hollywood lies deep inane
For scientology is their game
And what was that about Mormonism
Otherwise known as the Donny Osmand syndrome
Oh yeah I spiked his plate with something nasty

You see sometimes its fun being me
When you know everything
He would say bending over gingerly
Maybe some day you can be a marta to
Bit like my supposed son
That people keep on going on about

The thing about god is
That he always knew what he was on about
Ask me a question and I will give
It will be the truth
Even if it is not what you wanted to hear
Most people just twist it in their ears
Believe what they want

I Had true control then there would be no right wing fundamental peeves
Lioke the Vatigan which is lined with sleaze
Of how we control humans by spreading STD's

God is really a lager lout
And a lazy bumb who does not like to shout
Let it out, lets twist their minds
play noughts and crosses with Maries mind
To make martas of Jesus kind
He often scoffs down a vindaloo
Or a Madhar Jaffrey that he invented

and many othe quite disgusting habbits

By Jheffrey Johns 26/7/2009

birds in the cage

What you looking at me for
Screamed the sparrow to the Hawke
His eyes were wild and frightening
as he opened to squwark
I'm gonna pick you off
With talons rattling
Leave you in the starving quater
While I rattle and swoop
With victorious coops to prisons you

The birds in the cage,
The birds in the cage
The birds in the cage is me

The Hawke is society
Looking at me through the bars
of this flesh that sticks to my bone
as he screams out at the sparrow
I'm gonna get you alive
But the sparrow put up resistance
Building like a brick wall
As every breath the Hawke became societies Big bad Wolf
Screaming Little Pig, Little Pig
Why dont you come out and play?

The birds in the cage,
The birds in the cage
The birds in the cage is me

The sparrow tweeted out no way no way
I aint gonna come out and play
Because I'll know youll beat me again and again!

by Jeffrey Johns 23/7/2009

Just anothe Night in The Safari Zoo

I miss the Wild life
wehen I walk home late at night
seeing 1000's of gorilas pumping for a fight
After they have had another splendid Friday night
Of cheap shafted alchopops
And being driven home by the cops
Those 40 year old bints bloated like balloons
Staring at me as if I was a loon
For not going to their saloon
Full of Orange peeled skins
And making myself look like
I had come out of a toxic waiste bin
yeah but thats supposed to makes us sexy
yeah but that really does perplex me
As to why you think it would be sexy
To have a slap on personality
As the daily grinds hits the rails
For a bit of slap and fickle
As the men gaupe like baboons from the local zoo
At the you know who
With their biuts hanging out like Brussle Sprouts

Just another night at the Safari zoo
Bumbling along with the you know who

I miss the sounds of the blairing sirens
The classy tones of 'Ello sexy
And look there's Jesus
Come screaching out from gaggling hags
Looking like abused, torne and shragged hand bags
With the men draging their knuckles on the ground
Making gargantuan sounds of apes
As they pound around
With all the intelligence of tarzan
With no space for thought in the brain
Or cans that they have in their hands
Wangling their wongers
As all space for intelligence drifts on out
As the larger lagers drift on out
And control their rotting spouts
Oh yes here louts shout it out boys
We are all girls toys
They said all tuffed up and the wronge waye up

Just another night at the Safari zoo
Bumbling along with the you know who

By Jeffrey Johns 18/7/2009