Category Archives: Crime

Mutiny

Mutiny

Last year, I walked into a charity shop and bought a book that I knew nothing about purely because it had a beautiful cover. That book was called The Eventful History of the Mutiny and Piratical Seizure of HMS Bounty: It’s Cause and Consequences. Catchiest title ever. I won’t tell you all the details of this intriguing true story but suffice to say it describes a mutiny and the terrible consequences for the crew. It paints the mutineers as villains and the loyal crew as heroes but, as it was written many many years ago, makes no comment at all on the fact that the ships original mission had been to deliver food to help run a slave plantation! It’s a fascinating glimpse into history. This poem was inspired by this story but is fairly dramatised, fictionalised, and otherwise inaccurate.

Mutiny

Mutiny! Mutiny! Sound the alarm!
In the calm of the sea a cry rose from the boat
Then the few loyal crew, they were gathered around
They were bound and then thrown in a dinghy to float

Delivering food to a distant plantation
Their station: feed slaves with a glorious new crop
But they rested, found love with a small tribal group
So the troupe of deserters gave sailing the chop

We the dissatisfied, bitter and poor
Will no more accept wages, orders or commands
We’ll sail for that island and all settle down
For the town on the beach will fulfill our demands

The captain was outraged and said with a sneer
Well, it’s clear we’re the only real men on the ship
If you’ll send us off please, we’ll impede you no more
But be sure, we’ll be back, was the man’s parting quip

They struggled for weeks in the grip of the tide
Many died but a few lucky stragglers lived on
When they made it back home, they were asked straight away
Well, which way have the traitorous mutineers gone?

So to sea they returned, back to weed out the rest
With the best ship available, lethal and fast
They crashed onto the island, turned houses to mud
And the bloodthirsty scoundrels were punished at last

And never again were they put to the test
Yes, they rest now as heroes in glorious graves
Their records were flawless, their legacies pure
Just ignore the small fact that it’s bad to trade slaves

This is fruitiny!

This is fruitiny!

Haikune: Spy-Ku

Spy-Ku

To bring Haikune to a close, I bring you Spy-Ku. Haiku which delve into the secret, sneaky world of Spies, specifically James Bond. Come back next time for Julymericks! Woohoo!

You Expect Me To Talk?

Oh no, Mr Bond
I don’t expect you to talk
Just to die, Ha Ha

The Package

From Russia, with love
No one by that name lives here
Back to sender, boom.

Say sieve a red dye, DUN...DUN

Say sieve and red dye, DUN…DUN

Haikune: Die-ku

Die-Ku

I’ve decided that June is now Haikune so I will be posting a couple of haiku each week, along with a regular poem in the other post. For the first weekend (sort of, I meant to post on Saturday but didn’t have my laptop with me) of Haikune, I am posting what I call Die-ku. These are haiku that deal with death. Hope you enjoy.

Dr Lecter

Dr Lecter’s here
Please don’t let him eat my face
Sound of muffled screams

Bungee Jumping

Tie the bungee rope
Eaten by a crocodile
Where did you learn knots?

First he was in jail Then he fled to Italy Nearly et by pigs

First he was in jail
Then he fled to Italy
Good evening Clarice

Great Fire

Great Fire

This is a poem about the great fire of London. It wasn’t planned as a poem about the great fire of London. In fact, it wasn’t really planned at all. I wanted to use the word haberdashery in a poem because it’s an awesome word and I had the line evacuate the haberdashery going round and round in my head. Eventually, the rest of the poem took shape around that line. I say took shape, it more sort of clung to and molded around it like poo on a shoe. The line is sadly unsalvageable. What a waste.

Great Fire

Burning flame, fear and shame
Evacuate the haberdashery
Tried to bake a yummy cake
Something pretty and Jane Ashery

Soon it spread, turned London red
Waving in it’s strange cotillions
Where’s the smell? That turned out well!
Burnt away the filth of millions

It was kind of like Voldemort really; Terrible but great

It was kind of like Voldemort really; Terrible but great

My Heart Felt You

My Heart Felt You

I like to explore love from different perspectives in my poetry. I’ve written love poetry from the viewpoint of a stalker, a medic, an ophthalmologist, an immortal universe hopper, a bottom, and many others that I hope to post here some day. This particular poem is written as a cannibal who has fallen in love with his dinner. Think Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling. It’s short and sweet and was originally written as part of an experimental collection of poems entitled ‘three lined, rapidly escalating, violent poetry’. I have no plans to post any of the others as they got a bit grim after a while. I consider the experiment a failure but I quite like this as it was the first and, I think, the greatest.

My Heart Felt You

My heart felt you
My nose smelt you
My oven melt you

I'm having a young lady for dinner

I’m having a friend for dinner

Guilty

Guilty

I could pretend that this poem is some kind of comment on the justice system, or greed or how, in a way, we’re all guilty or whatever. I could pretend that many hours of thought were poured into this poem to ensure that I got my highly political and rousing message just right. I could also pretend that it was a good poem. Unfortunately, none of these things is true. This is simply the tale of a courtroom full of idiots. I wrote it over Summer while I cooked myself dinner. It’s not particularly original but I’m gifting it to you all anyway.

Guilty

Judge:
You stand accused of murder, friend
Your trial is now complete
The jury have retired, friend
They’ve had a chance to meet

The jury have returned, my friend
You look now not so tall
What verdict have you reached, dear friends?
Stand up and tell us all

Jury:
We find the defendant guilty, your honour
Guilty of stealing our hearts
His golden hair, his subtle cheeky grin
Seduced us all! We’ve all been taken in!

Relax your honour, or course I jest
It’s just that we’ve all been so horribly stressed
I thought it best to lighten the mood
Sit down your honour, no need to be rude

We find the defendant guilty of murder
Murderous wit that is
I’ve never seen a swifter, smarter tongue
On one so simple looking and so young

Relax your honour, another gag!
I swear upon the American flag
You need to find your sense of humour
Before you give yourself a tumour

We find the defendant guilty, in truth
Guilty of being innocent
We cannot bare to sit another hour
Under your bitter gaze, your face so sour

We do have a verdict Judge, yours at that!
We charge you with being a miserable prat
You’ve been found guilty upon reflection
And sentenced to death by lethal injection

Huh? What? Say again? (Deafened Ant)

Huh? What? Say again? (Deafened Ant)

The Disembodied, Well Embellished Belly Full of Burger King

The Disembodied, Well Embellished Belly Full of Burger King

Here is the second belly poem. Unlike today’s other poem, this is not about a person with a belly. This is about a free standing belly with a life of it’s own. This old advert served as the initial inspiration. The Disembodied, Well Embellished Belly Full of Burger King started essentially as a stream-of-consciousness ramble bordering on nonsense verse ,but a back story gradually started to emerge. In this four line poem, we discover a belly caught in a cruel life of murderous crime. Why? Nobody really knows, but it is often said in hushed tones that the belly was driven mad when it came second in a belly beauty contest and could no longer live with it’s own appearance. It’s quite moving really.

The Disembodied, Well Embellished Belly Full of Burger King

A disembodied, well embellished belly full of Burger King
Fell onto a therapist who never saw or felt a thing
And while you think the well embellished burger belly might be best
It cannot beat a disembodied belly full of chicken breast

Cheesemato anyone?

Cheesemato anyone?