DOVE

A Cautionary Tale

Taken from a recently discovered manuscript attributed to Hilaire Belloc

A man of substance, Bagger Loans
Ate lots and lots of ice-cream cones;
His wife said: “put a stop to that!
This ice-cream diet makes you fat!”
He did not heed her good advice –
He knew that ice-cream tasted nice,
And reason he could not sustain,
For, sadly, he’d but little brain.
“There’s nothing like it!” he insisted;
His craze for ice-cream still persisted.
With ice-cream – breakfast, lunch and dinner –
As you’d expect, he got no thinner.
His demand for ice-cream simply soared:
They had to bring it from abroad.
His trousers by his girth were busted,
And doors’ widths had to be adjusted.
“Give up this diet!” cried his wife,
“Or choose to live a lonely life.”
In answer, having cleared his plate
He ordered yet another crate.
His wife left home and moved to Kent,
But Bagger still did not relent.
Nought was weightier, nor bigger
Than his expanding corporate figure.
His ego was so much inflated
His greed could not be satiated.
The need for ice-cream now obsession,
It’s time for him to learn his lesson.
Neglecting more important matter
He kept on eating – getting fatter -
His greed was boundless, till the day
When like an airship he flew away!
“Ice-cream, ice-cream is my delight!”
He shouted, floating out of sight.
Above the house-tops, hills and trees
He flew, blown by a gusting breeze,
Then up above the town he sailed
And on a church spire was impaled.
Into the street the townsfolk ran
To see the fate of this famous man:
So everyone was made aware
His “substance” was in fact hot air!

By A. N. Other

The "They"

Our brain's collage, Others' views dictate,
From whence these came, controlled by fate.
The interests served, may well be yours,
Or traditions laid, by power's vendors.

Suppressed through youth, and young adult,
Crushed in their ether, of prolonged insult.
Their forces hidden, that group called “They”,
That shackles minds, making life’s days grey.

Free thinkers rare, provide a lead,
Tho’ violence threatens, some pay no heed.
Past history tells, how Free are killed,
The people's Martyrs, with kindness filled.

With minds so malleable, as “They” do know,
How do we fight? to let freedom grow.
They assault our souls, by moulding thought,
Their true ambition, on us power wrought.

Each struggling soul, with dogma break,
Discover what’s you, destroy what’s fake.
Your freedom grows, as you unearth,
Free sprits wild, given with your birth.

Crushed Scum rebel, the “They” do tell,
How mindless classes, stink and smell.
“Its not our fault, they lack respect,
Our ether works, for our fine sect.”

“Why don’t you change, its you that stink,
Your brains are rotting and cannot think.
Infernal rage, is what you cause,
When manifest, please give applause?”

The price we pay to “They’s” chief Hood,
Deep social chaos, never understood.
Of broken lives, and shattered mind,
No plan for cure, their outlook blind.

By Chris Chatwin

THE INCINERATORS ARE COMING !

The incinerators are coming!
There coming to a town near you
Burning waste , polluting the environment
Get out your plaque cards think of slogans
Rid our towns of these so called “energy recovery facilities”
NO Incineration! NO!
Fight them and give them a damn good fight
Use all your might against these foul things that burn our waste
Oh what a waste!
Fight against the tide of these waste burners
Yard upon yard are given up for waste burning facilities
Not In our backyard!
Say No to Incineration!
Dirty, filthy and polluting they burn plastic, cardboard, glass, batteries anything that will burn.
Energy from waste that’s a joke!

Miss D Ralph