Articles in Category: Poemeanderings

A collection of generally expletive and euphemism-filled rhymes and utterances.


Rants In My Pants

Some may have noticed, I like to have rants
And mostly those rants are while I’m in my pants.

Not pants as in trousers, but pants as in smalls,
The kind that are fashioned as hammocks for balls.

My near-bare expunging of thoughts in my head,
While wife calmly sleeps up the stairs, in our bed.

Of Trump and of Brexit and all things right-wing,
Angrily typing, while morning birds sing.

Some say it’s obsession, some say its a curse,
The raging and cussing through potty-mouthed verse.

“Donald’s a fuck-job!”, “Nigel’s a twat!” 
“Theresa and Boris like fingering cats!”

Perhaps it’s a thing and I’m losing my mind,
But rants in my pants really help me unwind.

So next time I spout off on Nazis or Don,
Just know that I’m typing with nothing much on;

Spouting my venom and being quite rude,
Half-losing my shit, whilst I’m half in the nude.

Fake News!

He said he’d stop the Mexicans,
His words were all Fake News.
He said he’d ban the Muslims;
He said he loved the Jews.

He said his hair was all his own;
A hay bale of Fake News.
He said the crowds were bigly;
Denied his hands abused.

He said her votes were less than his;
A fuck-load of Fake News!
He said God made the sun come out,
Whilst rain filled up his shoes.

Electoral college counted;
Again he gave Fake News.
He claimed the biggest victory…
Somehow, he seemed confused.

His entourage applauded,
To back up more Fake News
Of CIA staff that clapped for him;
In fact, they stood bemused.

Mexicans, “they’ll pay for that!”;
A wall of more Fake News.
From corners, in their taco trucks,
They smiled and looked amused.

Dead, illegal voter scum
Burst forth with more Fake News;
The democratic zombies on
An inter-state vote cruise.

He said he’d bring the jobs back,
But China screamed “Fake News!
We make your stupid fucking ties
And tiny little shoes!”

He said he’d drain the swamp out:
More slimy, shit Fake News.
As billionaires all settled in
And Putin came to schmooze.

Appointing all the best, he said;
Guess what? Yep, more Fake News!
As Flynn he fled with Russian mobs
And Sessions self-recused.

“Fake News!”, said all his sycophants
They cried out “More Fake News!”
The GOP enablers all stood by
To watch their country lose.

I’ll change the rhyming structure 
To end, I’ll be quite blunt.
Fake News is gone, this is the truth:
Donald Trump’s a cunt.

Insomnia (The 3rd & Final Movement)

Trying to sleep,
Counting some sheep.
Brain’s all a'mess;
I’m starting to stress!

Yearning to doze,
Brain spasm grows.
No rest in sight;
That Sandman’s a shite!

Bored of this crap,
I must have a nap.
So then I guess…
I’ll try to “de-stress”!

No sleep from that,
I reach for the cat.
Wipe down my middle,
Then kick out sweet Tiddles.

Losing my rag,
My sanity sags.
My thoughts scream and ache:
“God, why? For fuck’s sake?!”

I start work at eight,
It’s getting too late
For even an hour!
…I’ll jump in the shower.

But fate’s quite a trip;
In shower I slip.
Crack open my head
And fuck me, I’m dead!

At last, off I go
And blood starts to flow.
My dreams down the drain
With bits of my brain.

And so, in the end
The moral dear friends
Is: showers are shitty,
Just make do with kitty.

All Works Copyright © 2017 Benedict Francis

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