The Boogie Man's at our door,
Hear the God-almighty roar,
He goes bump in the night
And gives us a fright,
The Boogie Man's at our door.
Any demon will do,
It doesn't have to be true,
He once was red,
Now there's a towel on his head,
Any demon will do.
The political creed is the same,
We have to find someone to blame,
A frightened rabble is easily led,
The sacred cow is easily bled,
The political creed is the same.
It's all for the public good,
Cover our eyes with a hood,
Crank out a new scare campaign,
Then break out the champagne,
It's all for the public good.
Trample on justice and freedom,
Stoke the fires of the pogrom,
Silence all the dissenting voices
Offer us no clear choices,
Trample on justice and freedom.
Now it's time to reap what you've sown,
A bitter crop, meanly grown,
A society of fear and intolerance,
A people guided by ignorance,
Now it's time to reap what you've sown.
We are really much better than this,
Simply step back from the abyss,
See the truth contained in the lies,
Starve fear and it dies,
We are really much better than this.
Hello oh Rambling Masses,
I was having a conversation with a few friends at a public drinking house on the weekend, and I am afraid that the two pints of Guinness I consumed unlocked the ranter within. We discussed some of the bad stuff going on in the world, and some of the views opined inspired me to compose this little poem.
A Bucket Of Sand For Your Head
A bucket of sand for your troubles, a bucket of sand for your head,
Carry it 'round wherever you go, gravelly goodness not just for show;
If reality rears its ugly head, you can always just play dead,
Those silicone beads will cater to your needs, hiding the harm in your way,
So take my advice and don't think twice, a bucket of sand for your head.
It will all be okay, we will find a way, man's ingenuity conquers all,
We've a mystic mandate, the world on our plate, nothing will stand in our way,
No obstacles here, no need to fear, no hint of the inevitable fall,
Darwin's extinction of species is just so much faeces, not affecting us,
We'll soldier on, continue the con, with buckets of sand for our heads.
The miniature quartz will hide the warts, no blemishes on our skin,
No need for attitude, replace it with platitude, it's so much easier then,
No hard questions, no indigestions, there's no way our race won't win,
Just place the bucket and sound the tucket, safe in our dune of delight,
All senses soothed, all worries smoothed, with buckets of sand for all heads.
The hints of doom, the tidings of gloom, none of it filters through,
It's quiet in here, no disaster is near, and the sand is nice and warm,
I might take a nap, no reason to flap, I can't taste trouble's brew,
There's no reason to panic, to behave oh so manic, the glass is always half full,
I'll enjoy the view, and right on cue, use a bucket of sand for my head.
Ah, Rambling Masses,
Have I got something average in store for you today! About five years ago, I was mucking around on a local community radio station as a pretend DJ with a couple of friends of mine, and I decided to put together a rather silly weekly serial.
I recently stumbled across the end result, hiding in a dark recess of my hard drive somewhere. And so, without further ado, I give you...
I hope you enjoy wasting your time listening to it as much as I enjoyed wasting my time making it. Until next we meet, oh Rambling Masses, I remain your humble servant.
Well, it is exciting having a blog, at least for the first little bit. I am sure that I will tire of it one day, but in the meantime, here's an update.
I thought that I would share a poem with you, oh Rambling Masses. I wrote it many many moons ago, during a particularly dull university lecture, and I still kinda like it. Enjoy.
Release your grip on me.
Tug of love,
What goes up comes down -
Stupid planet, can't you see:
It's fatal attraction,
A lethal action,
Loss of sight -
Can't you see,
It's fatal attraction
To keep us here,
Because we'll destroy you
Through our fear.
Stinking stealing -
Mother! We will abuse you;
The situation is grave -
Only one way to save
3rd April, 1992.
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