Songs of Eurovision

Last night I watched the Eurovision
And I would have given my distinction
To Moldova or Ukraine with intention
The UK, I may have failed to mention

Songs of inspiration
To me is Eurovision
Songs of imperfection
To me is Eurovision

Belgium played the guitar with such exciting tension
France wiggled their backsides and got amazing reactions

Songs that reach out and touch the nations
To me is Eurovision
Songs that are unique and command attention
To me is Eurovision

Greece and its five guys displayed masculine domination
This was one moment to share for an unforgettable duration

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poem by Sylvia Chidi
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European Union Austerity Measures Inflicted On Greece

an interesting development...
an online censor clerk,
has learned, an innovative, art
a strategic censorship perk

instead of banning...
problematic whole book,
article, poem, attacking
austerity measures

a strategic strike intriguing...
a crafty innovative hook,
just delete, fine tune, targeting
precisely, paragraph, paragraphs

referencing offending...
sponsorship bankers bank,
austerity, measures, mince meating
Greece, Greek, citizens

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Unaddressed Outlook

Caught up in the failure of their defended nonsense,
It must be difficult for them to admit...
Every aspect of a belief system they praise,
Craves overhauling.

Its antiquated philosophies do not work.
Its Cowboy and Indian based economies...
Find admirations diminished.
Especially when those once considered 'Third World'
Are producing nuclear bombs.
And spending Euros in New York City.

Propaganda isn't what it use to be!
It use to be believed.
Or at least respected,
To initiate from a place that offered more...
Than refinanced insecurities of the greedy,
And the shallow intentions of corporate theives!

Remember the days when the minds of those,

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Das Meter is running

Bonn Prostitutes working the streets
now pay twice for displaying their treats.
They already pay substantial income tax,
for plying the world's oldest profession.
Now Politicans, also whores of a sort,
want more money despite the recession.
Now to make the sin tax yield sweeter
Certain streets now have Prostitute meters.
Six Euros a night is the rate
for these girls who have more than one “date”
So if your “dame des abends” says “Antreiben! ”
as the clocks ticking down on the evening.
She has a legitimate worry
in telling her patron to hurry.
In Bonn, the meter is running
and only the meter maid’s coming!

(The city of Bonn, Germany has installed street meters for Prostitutes. They must purchase (and display? ?) a ticket to solicit on the street. Meter maids enforce payment and collection. I envision the meter maids being like the 400 pound female gorillas Mayor Bloomberg employs here in New York. It's like easy pass for an easy lass.

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poem by John F. McCullagh
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Gutted

Now where did I put it
it must be here somewhere
could it be down the sofa
or the back of that big chair?
Maybe it slipped out of my jeans
when I was tending the flowerbed
I know I'll look around the garden
but did I leave it in the shed?
I've looked all over the place
searched every cupboard and drawer
I hope the dog hasn't chewed it up
he'll eat anything that's left on the floor.
EUREKA! I've found my Euro millions ticket
And I'm so happy and glad that I did
because I've got all of the winning numbers
I've won twenty million quid!
So why then aren't I really happy
and jumping about in a wild and crazy state?
well I did have all the correct numbers
but alas, it was for the wrong bloody date!

poem by Kevin Halls
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Figures In There Somewhere (Revised)

Came home to a brightly coloured work text
with Edith Piaf's life resounding in my head,
read a Roger Bootle (Fortune magazine) écrit
on PIIGS (probable Euro-split, Portugal,
Ireland, Italy, Greece & Spain) explained

And Edith Piaf's life intervenes, paging too
violently in the magazine, reading a heading
Dad Doesn't Have Hobbies, He Has Passions
Tom Ricketts said; admonished by my love
I rest the magazine, time to get rid of

Edith Piaf's passions in my head, her words
ringing in my ears - what's the use of being
Edith if I cannot do what I want? It may be
why being Margaret Alice fails, I cannot do
what I want, becoming instead

Expert at hiding desire from myself; I shall
never know what I really want except that

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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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COLLEVILLE SUR MER (D Day + 50)

The day is hot, no hint of a breeze
As I kneel down on ancient knees
At the grave of you, most brave,
who died in Omaha’s first wave.

Our mother never did recover
from losing you. Like many mothers.
she, ever after, hid the scar.
Poor recompense is a gold star.

Rows of crosses on the plain
Each bears a date, a rank, a name.
Lives ended by the chance of war.
None will see their home once more.

Was your sacrifice in vain?
One tyrant fell, but more remain
The Reich that fell now better known
as the common market Euro zone.

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poem by John F. McCullagh
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Disassembled (Life Poem)

I am now less than the sum of my parts - little pieces

Bits fell off and everything stopped working - strange

I feel I am coming apart at the seams - breaking up

All the parallel things I do every day - disconnected

The hotel booked for the week before I travel - dumb

A thousand euro lost due to card cloning - careless

Plans change so I am in the wrong place - drowning

People run away and ignore my requests - abandoned

Project symphony becomes a cacophony - confusing

I feel like Alice going down the rabbit hole - falling

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poem by Ian Beckett
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I Travel

Cities, buildings falling down
Ideal homes falling down
These pictures I see on the wall
Timeless leaders stand so tall
Assassin in a hit and run
Asia steals a new born son
Evacuees and refugees
Presidents and monarchies
Travel round
I travel round
Decadence and pleasure towns
Tragedies,luxuries,statues,parks and galleries
Europe has a language problem
Talk, talk, talk, talk, talking on
In central europe
Men are marching
Marching on and marching on
Love songs playing in the restaurants
Airport playing bi some lo
Travel round

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song performed by Simple Minds, music by Simple Minds, lyrics by J. Kerr
Added by Lucian Velea
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I'm too hot to fight

Expensive shirts
Euro tailored trousers
Dollar coated boots
The swagger is my style
Even the street respects me
All eyes move in accordance with my body's motion
Packs of dollars fall out of my pocket
Someone picks it and run
I pretend like nothing happened
Why didn't I struggle to get back my money?
'Cos I'm too hot to fight
I walk into a building
My hairstyle, so many comments
My smile, so many triping
My style, so many calling
I pass a pack of hot girls like I saw no one
One of them goes up to me to slap me for taking no notice
I use my towel to take her fingerprints off my face
Why didn't I react?
'Cos I'm too hot to fight

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poem by Ivan Chizurum Ezeigbo
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A Passion For Money!

Dollar, Euro, Pound, Yen, Dinar or Rupee currencies,
Money passion drives one deep even into the abyss!
Money passion never stops even the sea shrinks to nil
And ends not even camel goes through the eye of needle!

No one can fight in the court to win justice without money;
No one can run politics and win in election without money;
No one can get educated to live quality life without money;
No one can live life as wished in the world without money!

What is God – love or truth or justice or power or money?
Many opt for money as with money only everything is done!
Without money there is nothing in this material world;
Without spiritual grace there is no place in the other world!

As in God everything is contained in money in this world
Why there is so much passion for money let the futures tell!
But just way is first one should earn name by one’s work skill
And by perfection achieve position, power, fame and money!

poem by Ramesh T A
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Saving Faces

She lives the glamour days
The euro-fashion phase
So set another trap some other way
cause shes not biting
And oh no shes getting wasted again
Imagine that
Hooked on saving faces
What are you thinking?
What are you doing here?
Chorus:
You pretend youre safe inside
But I know what no one knows
Were the same,
Undefined by you
As youre living through my eyes
Always living through my eyes
Shes taking over the game,
And were always running that
Hooked on pointing fingers
Are you breathing?

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song performed by Orgy
Added by Lucian Velea
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End Of Austerity

End of Austerity

Winter had ice on the village pond, under elm trees sweet snow,
and our village was a postcard. Now it is about the price of potatoes,
no herring in the sea. Austerity, old women have been cooked and
made into lard. Old men have been rounded up, put in barrels and
salted; to be eaten, -as dry cod fish, - with green leaves of spring.
No winter wood, shot gun pellet damp and rabbits eat the carrots,
bankers live on curried eels rolled in euro notes, they let no one in.
Austrian mist dwells over Europe, yet there is the promise, EU has
disappeared like the romantic alpine fog; the drachma and escudos
are a legal tender again. Winter of discontent is over the English
will be scheming while waiting for approval by the USA (the special
relationship is a misty London dream) The French and Germans can
continue their natural enmity, as Belgium, Holland and Luxembourg
stir, as always, the big black pot of political intrigues.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Incredible Shrinking Country

It’s become more and more evident that there
is a concerted effort by global oligarchs to emotionally,
and financially bankrupt the United States of America.

Wall Street bankers, Federal Reserve Bank, corrupt
Politicians and the Military/industrial complex
are the instruments of the destruction.

The “Derivatives” debacle created more debt than the
American people will ever be able to effectively reduce,
much less pay off.

Greed drew in other Countries that are now moving toward
or are already bankrupt. The “domino effect” threatens to
destroy global economy. Global elite have effectively enslaved
the World using debt.

To further globalist agenda;
Higher food and oil prices.

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poem by Ray Lucero
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Histrionic Personality Disorder 2

I'd read of the plight of poor Sandusky. What rot!
Puritanism strikes again: where will it end?
I'd even googled the disorder. Took my sun-glasses off and read:
Defense today depending less on motive than diagnosis;
But I seemed to have all the symptoms: naivete, gullibility, low frust-
ration, strong dependency. The whole ball of wax.
After reading about it I did, anyway. And these were just the good things.
But how could I know for sure? Don't most have these traits? Somewise?
As for the causes, these were foregone:
turbulent both oral AND genital phases, in my case.
So the search for certainty'd brought me to this office.
As the expert, she was really supposed to know, no?
All I wanted was certainty. 'And, if it doesn't exist...? ',
I asked the translater, still staring at the floor
paved with lovely green travertine that felt good underfoot.
In reply, she just shrugged: these people are good at body language.
'Dunque, non'. That much I understood. She rose,
looked out the window, remarked, I think, about the good weather.
As she studied the sky I was impressed by her expertise.
'Would you like to have lunch? ' she asked, turning, in perfect English.

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poem by Morgan Michaels
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The Ultimate Game

The Creator asks to
the adventurous soul
Who returned to heaven
with a thrill seeking bowl.

The Creator asks:
“Did you enjoyed the game
of your staged abduction,
Which was done at non-
descript railway junction.
For that you merrily
bought the ‘Kidnap Package’,
And for few hours they
stuffed you in a cage.”

The Soul replies:
“Yes the fake game
was loaded with fun
But I want a real
not a virtual one.”

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poem by Hitesh Sheth
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Just Imagine...............

Some of us look at the present state of this world
And wish things could be different
We imagine the way the world should be
We visualize and hypothesize - it is possible

Imagine the whole world speaking one language
Then, there will be no need for translators
Everybody will understand each other
no matter where they live on planet earth
One language will reduce racial discrimination
and facilitate movements across national borders

Just imagine the entire world using one currency
The need to convert dollars into yen will vanish
or ask – how many euros equals one renminbi
or wonder how many pesos equals one rupee
and speculate how many rands equal one riyal
All the folks in foreign exchange departments
will do something else in the financial market
apart from tracking the rise and fall of

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poem by Julius Babarinsa
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Men like dolls.

Work is crucial for living,
as work brings the shilling,
working beyond the normal hours,
toiling during uninformed holy hours,
pawn the conscience in angelic eyes,
freshly made up matrons on the streets,
bankrupted their chastity,
overspent and gone beyond the limitations,
invisible visitors in between temptation,
experience is good and witness none,
God made this body to have fun,
promises are meant to be broken,
Why do make the hearts shaken?

advised not to bring the remnants,
in the forms of body odor,
different cheap perfume,
the dyed and permed strand,
sometimes long and
sometimes short,

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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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We Have to Come Up With Something Quick

Get Godzilla on the phone!

'We're trying to negotiate.
But even he says he will not take the blame,
For that kind of destruction we wish.
Not for the fees we promise.'

We have to come up with something quick.
This whole terrorists thing is beginning to bore!
Especially when tourists are flaunting their Euro spending,
In New York City!
Our deception plans are unraveling before our eyes.
Who else is on that list that captivates imaginations and fear?

'Bin Laden?
We know more about him and can not find him at all.
And Barack Obama was born right here...
Under a microscope.
And people are becoming scared to death of his truth!
And some minister who tells it like it is! '

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Queensday in May

Queensday in May

The fool on the hill
made us pay his bill
of uncomfortability
loss of stabilty
ability to trust.

La Fou on a needle
a memo of the war
reminding us of
how people can be
when they lose
their drift
in a black car jar.

In a black car jar
with his neck
streched

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poem by Madrason writer
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