Five Element Acupuncture Nature's way of bringing you Health in Harmony
Verse
 
Here are some observances/thoughts of mine:

(All are original compositions by Andrew G. Ogleby)

Have completed first draft of the script and songs for the 2017 GFMA Xmas Pantomime, as well as having completed a draft script of a new short play. Further details of both the be released shortly
 
June 2017: Presented verse at the GFMA 'Ceilidh & Acoustic Night', London facebook
 
June 2017: Presented verse at the GFMA 'Poetry & Spoken Word Night, Woolwich, London facebook
 
May 2017: Read some of my poetry at the Global Fusion Music & Arts 'Poetry & Spoken Word Night, London facebook

My first poem on this page is called Less, is More 

My second poem on this page is called... 

Same Streets

[With Backing Track. Showing Street Scenes of London]

Let me show you something, come, take me by the hand
We’ll grab a cab and go down town, and take a drive around
To see that these Same Streets are still not so grand
And open your eyes to what really lies beneath,
The City’s deceivingly beautiful, gleamingly thin, veneer

Exclusive high-rise, modern, glass fronted buildings,
Disparagingly looking down on those many still below, rough sleeping
Deviously designed though to ensure that they don’t get too comfortable,
Else it will look unsightly, in the morning, for those coming in through them

Whereas those in high-rises on the other-side of town,
Are being priced out, or left in accommodation sub-standard for living in,
With crass cuts to services, but millions still spent,
Whilst crudely cutting corners, to save money on exteriors never fit for purpose
Which were not anyhow necessary,
Just made, to make the ‘eye-sore’ to those others,
More aesthetically pleasing
Fatality resulting in lives now senselessly lost,
With a community still consumed in its raging and grieving

Then there's the whole shambolically futile Britain fucksit up process, causing clear in-division
Where once there was compliance, there’s now tangible defiance and derision
Vindictive trolling and hate crime on the rise, the showing of brutality for no justifiable reason
Against those they so ignorantly and cowardly despise
Weapon crime and acid attacks as some form of callous personal pay back?
Or just a way to dispense, their hideously venomous, pent-up poison

A gutless jogger, nastily knowing when elbowing over a fellow commuter
So a bridge, he can then continue to trundle arrogantly over
There’s now also the scourge of modern Byway Robbery,
By maliciously, malevolent, moped thieves
After anything they can take, swiped from right out of your sleeves
Pushing, chancing, the quickest way of advancing
Life forever pursuing the limited higher end chasing

There’s people, instantly communicating globally by various means
But without even a word or concern, for their nearest neighbours’ needs
Stuck in a world of their own, obsessed by what they send and receive
The need to be liked, instant gratification, with instant gratification please! Before then being instantly forgotten
Self-consumed, self-promoting, this selfish, selfie-taking fashion

So you still think you're lonely? Well, they say the loneliest place, is in the middle of a crowd,
And man this City can be fast, cold and loud!
Especially if you’re not part of its inner, invited, selective, in-crowd
The haves and the have nots,
Caused from an unequal distribution of wealth
Yeah the same old story, the blinkered fight for transient power and glory!

Food Banks. Gross Bank Bonuses. Modern Slavery

 
Women having trouble having babies
Refugees having trouble gaining entry
Modern living escalating mental wellbeing issues,
All against the continual suffering of a reduced,
Life-supporting, National Health Service
Having been built free for all, at its essential point of being used…

Now as the cab now pulls over and you go on your way
I do hope you have seen something, and with you it will stay
And that your minds judgement can also be swayed
And that you now understand, that nothing’s really changed
And it’s just life for many as ever before, simply surviving on the ground

Yet hope somehow miraculously remains, and it’s still not too late, for that real rain,
To some day come and wash, the stench of filth, from these same Same Streets, to make them once clean again…

(Oct 2017:  Full length version of a poem to appear in a scene from the upcoming feature film 'The Passenger')

That Night

I didn’t really feel I had the right, to write about that night,
Because I was on the other-side of town, in a house, tucked up tight...

I didn’t really feel I had the right, to write about that night,
Because I am not considered poor, and am classed indigenously white...

I didn’t really feel I had the right, to write about that night,
Because I won’t ever know the extent of their horrific plight
I didn’t see the dreadful scenes, hear the haunting screams,
And experience the total fright
Because the sickening stench I didn’t smell, from that brutally toxic, inferno hell...

I didn’t really feel I had the right, to write about that night,
Because it wasn’t mine that were affected,
Or I wasn’t one, of the truly heroic braves,
Whose own lives, they, without thinking neglected,
To save those, so gravely afflicted...

I didn’t really feel I had the right, to write about that night,
Because I didn’t have to make split-second decisions, or send texts asking for forgiveness

I didn't flee the scene, still dressed in clothing made for lounging,
With worldly possessions hurriedly thrown in a trolley,
To escape the imminent danger, all-consuming

Or I didn’t have to frantically grab,
A text book, on my perilous way out,
So I could then incredibly and stoically,
Still sit, later that day, in school,
An exam, in G.C.S.E chemistry...

I didn’t really feel I had the right, to write about that night,
Because I wasn’t in the aftermath dealing,
With the utter shock and total disbelief,
Of what had just unfolded, with such ferocious speed,
With people who had lost everything, and wanting immediate help,
To deal with their every, catastrophic need...

I didn’t really feel I had the right, to write about that night,
But I can still share their sense of anger, of the senseless surrender,
Of lives, whose tremendously unfulfilled potential,
Was not deemed to be as good, as those others, in the rest of the neighbourhood

And the time elapsed for support to be finally given,
Left to others in grief to organise their relief
Then to suffer the spouting from platitudinous politicians,
Though some did rightly meet, those who really mattered,
But in one stark case, it was so scandalously selected...

I didn’t really feel I had the right, to write about that night,
But I can still share their sense of rage that the numbers aren’t right,
And wanting answers, to know how this could happen, in 2017 Britain?
Especially why they had glibly dismissed, so many warnings previously given?
And what now for those lives, severely shattered?
And others in similar situations, now scattered?

Then being incensed at the crass cuts,
But still millions spent, and crudely cutting corners,
To save money on cladding, never fit for purpose,
Which was not anyhow necessary,
Just made, to make the ‘eye-sore’ to others,
Seem more aesthetically pleasing...

Well they now have a ghastly, ghostly blot as a reminder, of just what can happen,
When life is so easily, and neglectfully cheapened...

I didn’t really feel I had the right, to write about that night,
But I can still share their fear for the future,
As restlessness and division grow deeper
We don’t want a repeat of what’s gone before,
But when voices aren’t heard,
Then some feel they don’t have a choice...

I didn’t really feel I had the right, to write about that night,
But I still would like to sincerely salute, such a courageous community,
For taking stock of the situation, and giving all that they got
And showing what they have got, is worth far more,
Than those lot, who really couldn’t give a jot, have got...

I didn’t really feel I had the right, to write about that night,
But I have, and I’m glad as I can take heart,
From those many that do care, as was seen,
Who came together and showed others,
That what in the end shines through,
And what really matters, is the human spirit to pull through,
With compassion and love to overcome,
And a belief in the greater, communal good...   Justice for Grenfell

(Presented at the GFMA 'Poetry & Spoken Word Night' 28th June 2017, Woolwich, London)
 
Thought! The Lord Tempts, Teases and Takes away
 
Thought! You've either got it, or you haven't! Well, I have a God given talent for the later...
 
Thought!
Bling it, Until You Blang It!

Thought! We are generally happy, until we see someone else has better or more...
 
Katie Crush
(A Song)

Katie, Katie, Katie, Katie
I wanna be much more than matey
Oh, Katie, Katie, Katie, Katie
But do you even really like me?

At the local disco community centre
I wait patiently for you to enter
I say ‘Hi’, but you don’t even see me,
And I know, only too well how this will end
As you just walk right by, with your giggling friends

Katie, Katie, Katie, Katie
I wanna be much more than matey
Oh, Katie, Katie, Katie, Katie
But do you even really like me?

The way you twirl your bubble-gum around your finger
Oh, how I wanna make that moment linger
Then watching your blown out gum,
Become a moment I wish I could freeze
Making me feel all trembley and go weak at the knees

Katie, Katie, Katie, Katie
I wanna be much more than matey
Oh, Katie, Katie, Katie, Katie
But do you even really like me?

The way you alone, make me feel
If only this to you, I could reveal
But I know, this just won’t happen
So I’m now thinking of moving out to Clapham…

Katie, Katie, Katie, Katie
I wanna be much more than matey
Oh, Katie, Katie, Katie, Katie
But do you even really like me?
Do you even really notice me?
Do you ever even think of me?

Oh Katie, looks like it’s the single life for me!

(March 2017: From the theme of 'Kate' at the GFMA Writers Group. A tale of late teenage angst about no one in particular, but based heavily on the fabulous work of Jilted John who I went to see perform last week.)
 
Humans (An Open Verse)
 
Humans what the fuck you doing?
And Humans, just what the fuck is going on?
The way you treat each other,
Abusing beliefs
Deaths and atrocities,
Now in Aleppo and the Yemen
My brothers and Sisters, this just can't go on,
Oh brother! something's now got to be done
 
Where is the Human,
In humanity?
Don't we all just really want,
And need the same?
This ain't no revelation,
No new rule of the game
 
Shelter, food, warmth, love, safety
Health and happiness
It's the same as it's ever been,
Since Adam and Eve
Not forced eviction,
At the barrel of a gun
Just what has gone so wrong,
For this not to become?
 
We share everything in common
This is something that even
A blind chimpanzee can see
We have it all, yet still not enough
If nothing changes, we won't be missed
Just a flash in the pan,
Reduced to debris and dust
 
(January 2017: Under Construction)
 
Wasting Hating

Time wasted hating
In senseless negating
And endless regurgitating
Of spurious hostility finding
 
Lost in contraction
And sure condemnation
Prevention of expansion
To a higher function
 
In fighting, not listening
Seeing only blinkered vision
It's all self-consuming,
Driven by the fuel
Of ignorance, not knowing
 
A self-fulfilling prophecy
Engulfing and spewing
Keeping the vicious cycle,
Forever spinning
Round and Round
Round and Round
Round and Round
 
Spreading to others,
Consuming on it's way
Never a thought for them
Until the day they die
With no chance then
For redemptive goodbye
 
The guilt that bitterly consumes
Till the final day of calling
Then passes onto the next
And the next or until,
At last despair 
Realization dawns
 
To remove the ingrained scorn
See just what could be
And what an utter waste it's all been
With what can be achieved
Without the need of such gall and greed

(January 2017)

Convention
 
Conventions full of anal retentions
Laid down laws by such dullard bores
To go against the grain,
Takes a bucket-load of strain
To be yourself without need for refrain
To pay no heed, just keep going,
Again and again and again
 
Convention, the sick-sister of Invention
Never going against the aforementioned
Formality breeding such banality
Rules, made to make them feel like Fools
Restrictive, Prescriptive, Conflictive
Conscription and Castration
 
Dumb down, Don't rock the boat
Keeping them forever obeying,
Form filling, with fear of straying
And having to think on their own
No longer willing to break the link
 
They win, You lose
Game Over
 
(January 2017)
 
Searching for the Spirit of the Season
 
Searching for the Spirit of the Season
Searching for something we can believe in
Searching for the rhyme and the reason,
That undefinable and indisputable feeling
 
But where to be found?
Up in sky or down upon ground,
Amongst trees or far out to sea,
Or around the hearth of a loving family?
 
From presents received and given,
Or from the depths of solitude,
That deserted walls have hidden?
Or diffused within the vast silent expanse,
With all others far out of vision? 
 
Is it to be found at the bottom,
Of a forever surrendering glass?
Or in the look and sweet kiss,
From a tenderly touching lass?
Enchantingly captivating,
With that certain and ever knowing,
Hypnotic allure in her eye
 
Felt deep within a beating heart,
Connecting with the bigger certainty
The most precious gift of all
As deftly summoned through
The mysterious chemistry,
Of the Great Alchemist's,
Most phantasmagorical wizardry
 
The essence that can't be touched, only experienced
For to try to capture and contain
Sees it simply slip through your hopeless grasp yet again
So just to let it be, is the only way to see,
And in time, it just might come back again,
Ever so effortless and wholly naturally...
 
(Christmastime 2016)
 
Thought! I Wonder, Just Where Has the Wonder Gone..?
 
Thought! In the End, All that Matters, Is All that Matters...
 
Thought! Who Teaches When the Teachings have been Lost..? 
 
(Dec 2016)
 
Late Night Scribbling
 
I accept my lot
My fate is sealed
Too much exposed
Too much revealed
With my behest
My spirit rest
Too much gone
Too few to come
And all bygones
Now will be done
 
(Dec 2016: Of Acceptance and Forgiveness)
 
Greetings from a Cellar (In the Style of a Letter Home from the Front 100 Years Before)

Greetings from a cellar
It’s rather hot down here
But it’ll be the Final Show soon,
And will then all be over
And time for us to go up on top,
To see how really is the weather

Greetings from a cellar
It’s also rather crowded down here
There’s flesh and bodies abound all round
And the strange sound of toots and hoots,
From the vault far after
Along with the regular Wiz Bang from up above
Crashing and causing leeks to appear,
And that nearly bring down the ceiling

Greetings from a cellar
Trapped down here in this living hell,
Looking like it’s been blown out by a shell
With the terrible lingering stink, and tormented yell,
Of ale, ale everywhere, but not a damn drop to drink!

Greetings from a cellar
At times it’s hard to contain our mania
But we do our best, although for some
They have to succumb,
With a scream and a shout,
Just to let it all out

Greetings from a cellar
Although when all’s said and done,
We’re rubbing along quite well
There's Lords and Ladies,
Mixing with Bobbies and Blaggards,
And also the odd odd lookin’ fella,
Not appearing to know whether,
They are really a Bruce or a Sheila?

Greetings from a cellar
This is the last word I can report on the matter
But at least I can now reveal
The location of where the revelry, will be
It’s The Pack and Carriage
So I do hope you can manage
To get down to the front
So you don’t miss a quip or a stunt
And please bring your family and friends,
To see the show, where the fun never ends!

A Horse, A Horse
An Air-Conditioning System for a Horse….

[SHOW NOW OVER]

(July 2016: Taken from observations made whilst waiting to go up on stage for the Shakespeare play 'Much Ado About Nothing')

Champ Lives On

Spoke Like A Philosopher,
With A Soul Full of Poetry
Ali Surely Was The Greatest
That There Will Ever Be [Amen]

(7th July 2016: As written in the Book of Condolences at the 'I Am The Greatest' Muhammad Ali at The O2 Exhibition)

Can't Complain
 
I can't complain... but I do
Cuz there's something sticky, stuck on my shoe
Or that I'm now sat here stuck on the loo
After also coming into contact
With some of that super-sticky sort of glue
Whilst having a...
Right old time trying to get the sticky stuff,
Off-ov-a the sole of my right, NOW left shoe!
 
I musn't grumble... but I do
That the world around me, seems so untrue
With the most belonging to the few,
Who are also unwilling to play fair
Forgetting the wise-words their mothers heeded,
And to her squabbling siblings pleaded,
'Play nicely now, there's no need to fight
It will only lead to no good
And there's more than enough already here,
For it to go round and for us to share'
 
I can't complain... but I do
And think that you should also do too
For if not now, that person in need
Could quite easily in future, become you
As in the end, all that matters,
Is all that matters
 
(April 2016)
 
Turned Out Nice Again

When the headwear has fallen from the bun
Or when life, just doesn’t seem so much fun
Then that’s the time to remember,
The words of this ‘ere rhyme
To sing, strum, hum or whistle, along in time...

For like the parting of the clouds, as is the way
With persistent, patient perseverance come what may,
There’s only one thing you’ll really need to say

It's turned out nice again!
I knew it would, like it always does
Turned out nice again!
A lovely drop of sun, helping take-away the pain
Turned out nice again!
Puckered up, now going with the grain
Oh it has, turned out nice again!

So after all the doom and gloom,
Felt through all the rain
You won’t help but come back to declare,
Through the spouting of this,
Time-honoured refrain...

For when the chips are feeling,
Like they’re falling down,
There is really no need,
To adopt and wear a frown
Rather just look above and you will plainly see

[Chorus]

With a little something you fancy,
And a Kwick-Kiss from the Sweet lips of Rosy Lee 
Bringing you back on the mend,
Be yourself once more to resend...

For like the returning of a welcome,
And dear long-lost friend
It’s time to cry out, and laugh aloud like no end
It’s then that you will clearly obtain,

By Jove, it has turned out nice again!

[Chorus]

So when the dog comes a barking at the door,
Simply shew it off, for it’s not welcome anymore
And remember, as has happened many times before,
It always does just, turn out nice again!

[Chorus]

Oh, I do like to be beside the Thames-side…

(February 2016: Taken from the writing of a new play by Andrew G. Ogleby)
 
Impermanence Permeates 

Survival follows the end of a long, constant battle of trying to stay alive,
Striving to go on and on with scant resources available to live on
And where can be heard, the ‘dogs of doom howling more’ in eager anticipation of what’s in store
In a state where you either give up or carry on, switching over to a primeval automatic mode
Until the fittest or the fortunate finally resurface to take in the deep life-reviving breath,
Stepping out from the abyss, released, reduced and reengaging the Soul
Immersed in the glorious life-reaffirming, invigorating sunlight
Having made it to through to the end of the dark, long, unforgiving, tortuous night

But wait! Nothing lasts forever, and no one ever gets out of here alive
Even the seemingly immortal finally succumb to those pre-numbered grains of sand
From the toughest metal man of rock, taken out with shock!
Living Hard. Dying Fast. As was his want, by the sudden stopping of his terminal inbuilt body-clock
Having though lived many a life and survived many a battle, with no prisoners took
To the Deathly Duke, who knowing he was going, was keeping it well kept
For also knowing as previously sung in another early song,  
Proclaiming how a thing like that, would surely impact and profoundly affect the innocently afflicted

Whereas our own Jimmy sadly soldiered on not knowing his own conscious state,
The ultimate elephant, finally succumbing to its inevitable, untimely fate
Having been such a life-force behind the game and the team I support,
Taken them from relative obscurity to the final promotion,
To rightly dine at the top-table the very year of my birth
Then Brad and earlier the original Coventry Rico,
Whose Special band having done so much to integrate and revive life,
Into the crumbling post-war dream under increasing strife

For to really survive, is to live on when they can no longer revive
As those gone before, including unlucky members of the 27 club taken so soon.
All iconic,. Not bionic. But now far off beyond the distant stars and moon
Crackerjack and Stardust Memories, forever in the hearts and minds of those of us still left behind
Eternal survivors, far more than just for one day…

(Jan 2016: For the Global Fusion Music & Arts 'Writers Group'. Theme: Survival)
 
Working for the Man

Working for the Man,
Who wants to keep me as I am
Working day and night,
Cuz he says he’ll see me right

Taking back the pay,
To keep his friends out of me way
This is how it is day after day,
Day after day

If only I could break loose
From these chains that bind
I think that you would find,
A complete change of mind

If only I could be,
I think you would see
And think differently

That’s all I ask for me
And my family
A place where we can be free
And live happily

A simple philosophy,
Escaping life’s harsh reality
That’s all I’m asking for me…

Keeping going on,
As I see no other way
Other mouths to feed
And to keep from harm’s way

Don’t want no questions asked,
So make out it’s all OK
This is how it is day after day,
Day after day

If only I could break loose
From these chains that bind
I think that you would find,
A complete change of mind

If only I could be,
I think you would see
And think differently

That’s all I ask for me
And my family
A place where we can be free
And live happily

A simple philosophy,
Escaping life’s harsh reality
That’s all I’m asking for me…
All I’m asking for me…

'All I want is a room somewhere…'     

(Nov 2015: DVD Diva song from the play 'Troubled meets the Troubadour')
 
These Useless Things

Asking mice to draw,
The shortest of cheese-straws
To decide the outcome of
A hotly disputed score
Is akin to pressing the button for,
The winning of the final war

These useless things,
Never happy with
Always wanting more
Like asking mice to draw,
The shortest of cheese-straws
To decide the outcome of
A hotly disputed score

Not allowing those to walk
Along the earth that does not belong  
Is as crass as asking someone to pee,
Three sheets to the wind
And to still to expect to stay soak-free

These useless things,
Never happy with
Always wanting more
Like asking mice to draw,
The shortest of cheese-straws
To decide the outcome of
A hotly disputed score

Building igloos in, the hot midday sun,
As shelter for those, who just can’t run
Is like supplying chocolate fireguards

Or electing inept politicians,
Who run when the heat is on
And can't be found, when there is work to be done

These useless things,
Never happy with
Always wanting more
Like asking mice to draw,
The shortest of cheese-straws
To decide the outcome of
A hotly disputed score

The stupid shop of Grot,
Selling what we want not
That perfect gift for someone,
With no taste that no one else has got
But as others are,
It then became so popular

“Grot has lots of things that aren’t of any use,
Some of them are red, some of them are green
And some of them are puce.”

These useless things,
Never happy with 
Always wanting more
Like asking mice to draw, 
The shortest of cheese-straws
To decide the outcome of
A hotly disputed score

It's just like asking motley miserly mice to draw cheap chewy, cheesy-straws...

(November 2015: written for Global Fusion Music & Arts writers group. Theme 'Cheese Straws')
 
Prove Approve

Prove approve
Having to remove,
What you wanted to say

Prove approve
To please and re-appease
To prove your self,
And not your worth

Again and again and again
Without refrain but with all the strain
Restricted, constricted, inflicted and suffocated
Prove approve, disprove remove
Never ever enough to push through and just do

(October 2015)
 
Painful Process (Killing Caring)

Unleashing a wreckin’ ball,
To demolish a garden shed
Feeling like I’d been inside,
Reeling from the almighty thwack to the head
Not appearing to take account,
Of what was actually being said,
And said and said and said, so sad...

Chapter and verse arriving by hearse, 
Over and over and over again
The poisoned post, landing on the mat,
Like an unwelcome and overweight cat
Black and white not seeing the light
Or looking within for the true meaning

White noise so loud it’s become deafening
No apparent care for the state it’s causing
Issued up on high from sublime Ivory Towers
Moving away from what’s down here,
And what really matters

Losing sight of the right to a fair and just fight
What could have simply been made clear,
With an early intervening and humanistic ear
To resolve/restore with attention and due care

Instead of moving away from the issue in question,
To one where it became just plain hurtful deformation 
Outnumbered/outflanked/outranked without reproach,
Or assisted representation/intervention and coach

Having paid the price for this pale privilege, 
So reassuring the counting and figures add up 
To now accept that 5 be the score of 2 plus 2,
And not whatever it was calculated as before 
And to never dare ask, let alone dare question

But I do now freely forgive,
And draw a line to try and forget
A process hung heavy with remorse,
And needless bitter painful regret

(October 2015 - under construction)
 
Just Adjust

Just adjust yourself,
For your health and your wealth

Just adjust yourself,
Don’t be taken by stealth

Just adjust yourself,
Nor be left on the shelf

Just adjust yourself,
It can’t be more clear

Just adjust yourself,
To make the move right here

Just adjust yourself,
I’m speaking quite plain

Just adjust yourself,
Let go all of the pain

Just adjust yourself,
And help to regain

Just adjust yourself,
The person restricted within

Just adjust yourself,
Letting it begin

Just adjust yourself,
By being yourself once again

Just adjust yourself,
Without any impact from them

(Sept 2015: Reminder of Reaffirmation)
 
End the Over

Overrated
Overstated
Overblown
Overinflated
Overused
Overexaggerated
Oversincere
Overhere
Overegged
Overbegged
Overadjective
Overeffective
Overreactive
Overandoverandover

OverOverandout

It'stheendofendtheover!

(Sept 2015: Observations on the unnecessary common overuse of exaggeration)

Givin' it All That!

Builders turning up in the morning
Givin' it All That in the morning!
Radio’s on, slamming doors,
Beeping horns and engines idly idling
Giving it All That in the morning!

At the break of day,
Just as it is dawning
Givin' it All That in the morning!
Oblivious that others may still be snoring
Giving it All That in the morning!

Dropping poles from a height,
T-shirt off, not a shite
But givin’ it All That in the morning!
Working class Tories neglecting the stories
Just givin’ it All That in the morning!

 
SAW, SAW, SAW, SAW
 
BORING, BORING, BORING, BORING
 
(Written during the Long Sawing Summer of 2015)

 
May 2015: Written a bittersweet comedy 'Troubled meets the Troubadour' (including lyrics and verse below) and currently in rehearsals for TLT's play festival in July
 
What’s the Score? 

Like a lost tale from days of yore
Please tell me what’s the score,
When Troubled meets the Troubadour?

Seen stumblin’ through the outside door
Please tell me what’s the score,
When Troubled meets the Troubadour?

And meet down upon the bar-room floor
Please tell me what’s the score,
When Troubled meets the Troubadour?

Exchanging ‘blows’ and so much more
Please tell me what’s the score,
When Troubled meets the Troubadour?

Who wins, who dares, who cares?
Just tell me what’s the score,
When Troubled meets the Troubadour?

Landlord please tell me what’s the score,
When Troubled meets the Troubadour?

Somebody please tell me what’s the score,
When Troubled meets the Troubadour?

Tell me what’s the score,
When Troubled meets the Troubadour?

So what’s the score,
When Troubled meets the Troubadour?

(June 2015: From 'Troubled meets the Troubadour' by Andrew G. Ogleby)

Every Evening 

I just sit here every evening,
Drink the drink to stop me sobering,
And to make everything more numbing
Thinking of the life I’m not leading
The thankless job I’m just not holding

My distant wife and family not knowing,
The darkness that’s been growing,
From thoughts and feelings not flowing
My place in life no longer showing,
Replaced by those ‘far better meaning’

Friends no longer round to sound
Things no longer interest me to see
I’m living my life in this isolation,
Devoid of the warmth of humanity
Going through the motions, marking time,
Until something else comes round or I’ll…

I just sit here every evening,
Drink the drink to stop me sobering,
And to make everything more numbing
Thinking of the life I’m not leading
The thankless job I’m just not holding

My distant wife and family not knowing,
The darkness that’s been growing,
From thoughts and feelings not flowing
My place in life no longer showing,
Replaced by those ‘far better meaning’

I was once in demand
Always keen to lend a helpin’ hand
People needed my skills
Now they just pop their pills,
Or search on-line for whatever other,
Elixir they can find
Keeping up with the trend,
Instead of staying on the mend

I just sit here every evening,
Drink the drink to stop me sobering,
And to make everything more numbing
Thinking of the life I’m not leading
The thankless job I’m just not holding

My distant wife and family not knowing,
The darkness that’s been growing,
From thoughts and feelings not flowing
My place in life no longer showing,
Replaced by those ‘far better meaning’

I just sit here every evening…
 
 
(May 2015: From 'Troubled meets the Troubadour' by Andrew G. Ogleby)

Landlord’s Story 

I get all sorts come in here
Some make some noise,
Whilst others, stare in their beer
I see it as part of my role, to simply,
Offer an ear, if someone appears unhappy
To let them be, or try and given direction,
If they just don’t have a clue, what to do 

Either way it couldn’t be more clear
When all’s said and done,
It’s a human condition
To want to feel free
And be who you are,
And would like to be

So I provide a place of trust, respect and safety
For them to express their woes, to love and laugh
Tell jokes about life, with no doubt also a few,
About any long suffering other-halves

In amongst the warmth of this Human Zoo
With bleary eyes after having had a few
With a song in their heart and words that now rhyme
Off again, until the need returns,
To come back and do it once more, next time…
 
(May 2015: From 'Troubled meets the Troubadour' by Andrew G. Ogleby with harmonica backing)

Pressure for the Perfect


Pressure for the Perfect, Pressure for the Perfect
The perfect look, the perfect shape
Pressure for the Perfect, Pressure for the Perfect
The perfect match, the perfect date
Pressure for the Perfect, Pressure for the Perfect
The perfect wife, the perfect life
Pressure for the Perfect, Pressure for the Perfect
The perfect gift, the perfect excuse
Pressure for the Perfect, Pressure for the Perfect
The perfect job, painting the perfect picture
Pressure for the Perfect, Pressure for the Perfect
The perfect delivery, in perfect harmony
Pressure for the Perfect, Pressure for the Perfect
The perfect time, the perfect crime
Pressure for the Perfect, Pressure for the Perfect
The perfect spot, the perfect STOP!

Perfection cannot be forced to be suddenly gained,
That goes totally against the run of the grain
It is precious, beautiful, limited and needs to be nurtured
Forged at the end of a long skilful process
As the flawlessly symmetrical gems in the earth did,
Hidden amongst all that other geological dearth

It is something to strive to obtain,
To train and train repetitively,
Again and again and again
Until it becomes so natural, fluid
And without any of the previous strain
Although in the hands of the blessed few
There are those who, appear to have been given a gift from the Gods,
With grace and poise and such little noise it appears, oh so effortless…

But they still do have to practice for this to remain affective
And perfection can have its own inbuilt curses,
As in the mania to endlessly replicate or exploit this limited estate
Whilst those that hopelessly watch in awe and try to aspire,
Are left feeling inadequate with want and longed for desire

However, perfection still provides the inspiration for us to all transpire,
‘The Seldom Reached Star’ to progress ever upwards, higher and higher and higher
Although sometimes things should just be left alone as they are,
As on this perfect planet we call home,
For it is perfection as it is
And to unbalance the natural order of things,
Can surely only bring disharmony, for all living beings

Feels like the Perfect Place to Pause…

(March 2015 entry for Global Fusion Music and Arts monthly Writers Group theme: 'Perfection')
 
March 2015: Had three further poems accepted by TFL for their Travel Better London poetry competition 1 2 3

 
Feb 2015: Written and entered a poem accepted by TFL for their Travel Better London poetry 
competition 
 
What are You Doing? (Nothing)

Without Nothing there can be no things…
It is from Nothing that everything begins
I mean without before the Big Bang,
Just where would we be?

The Ancients said the Dao gave birth to One,
One to Two and Two to the Three
And from all this, birth to all Things,
That includes you and me

Everything stands next to Nothing
It is the emptiness of the cup,
That allows it to be filled
Or the void of the mind,
Which allows for connection,
To the Universal Field

The use of zero became the hero, 
Finally making things add up correctly
And on which they then could be,
Developed experimentally

Although I'd like to see,
Less of the nil, on the score-line,
Of Coventry City's final entry
And a few more noughts,
On the right-hand side,
Of my bank balance statement
Instead of the nada, nowt, zilch and diddly-squat,
All terms used to denote, it's not got a lot
 
However, Nothing is also an imposter,
A trickster an illusionist 
As Nothing is actually impossible, 
Although Nothing can’t be achieved
Nothing compares when Nothing else matters,
When there’s Nothing left to lose nor fear

So Nothing is in fact everything my Friend,
But just can’t always be seen
The vacuum making things clearer
The bigger picture residing within, every living Being
And as has been said, by a wise sage of yore,
‘Happy is the Man (or Woman) who is Nothing’

(February 2015 entry for Global Fusion Music and Arts monthly Writers Group theme: 'Nothing')
 
A Nature of London
 
Violent splashes of survival,
Thriving through cracks in walls
And drab pavement slabs
The City's lungs losing their bark,
As they choke down its gargling soup
 
Pigeons dining out on spew
Left behind by someone who,
Had one too many over their few
Whilst the parakeets' sudden startling screech,
Almost knocks small ones off-a their feet
 
The Capital Fox on the prowl,
After the wanton sun goes down
With rats on their runs
And bats that swoon,
Underneath a full,
And gloriously mesmerising,
Metropolitan moon
 
Then humans who pass by,
Without a care or blink of eye
Detached from the very thing,
That provides with everything
On their driven blinkered course,
Until finally forced to stop and flag,
Their timely fateful hearse
 
(Updated February 2015 - under construction)

W's Peckham (William it was Really Something)

And did Blake's feet in times long by
Walk upon Peckham Rye's common green
And were those heavenly visitations
On this pleasant English pasture seen

And whence was he then mocked,
Cast out astray, chastised, despised.
And as a beacon was he to shine,
Amongst those stark, moronic minds
 
Show me the truth, that I've been told
Show me the way, that I may inspire
Show me no fear. O make me bold!
Show me my burning trailblazer 

Long shall we strive for what is right 
And be en garde for those who offend
Till we have built understanding,
Will England be a true and just land
 
(Updated February 2015 - under construction)

A to B Mentality

This A to B mentality,
Is just unnecessary,
And drives me crazy
 
Why not take in C,
Even if it means,
Extending your journey
 
And pause a while,
And then you'll see
 
The beauty you've missed,
Whilst getting angry
 
(Updated February 2015 - under construction)

Cosy
 
Cosy in the morning,
With a cup of coffee
Extra cardboard in case,
It gets too hotty
 
Cosy on the T.V,
Talk about baby,
Never thinking,
That we're not,
All the same maybe
 
Cosy on the sofa,
No need for others,
Except their attention,
Exclusivity from extended,
Sisters and brothers

Cosy in the park,
Having a nice chatty
Letting darlings run around
Jumping on graves,
Laid down for old braves
 
Dumb-down no brain,
I just don't know how it can be,
That they take themselves,
So seriously
 
And why they all need to be,
Sooo fookin' cosy!
 
(Updated February 2015 - under construction)
 
Door of Opportunity
 
I'm gonna kick down
The door of opportunity,
See what's on the other-side,
Waiting for me
 
I'm gonna kick down
The door of opportunity,
And trust in the hand of the Lord
 
Before I was Spiritually blind,
Just couldn't see
What was blatantly obvious,
Starring right in front of me
 
Now the light has shone,
Illuminatingly
Showing me the way,
To go afore ye
 
I'm gonna kick down
The door of opportunity
See what's on the other-side,
Waiting for me
 
I'm gonna kick down
The door of opportunity,
And trust in the hand of the Lord

Now all things said
All Kingdoms come
Until I'm dead and gone,
There's work to be done

Till I have left my mark,
For any others to see
What will be will be
For this time, and all eternity
 
So I'm gonna kick down
The door of opportunity
See what's on the other-side,
Waiting for me
 
I'm gonna kick down
The door of opportunity,
And trust in the hand of the Lord
 
[repeat chorus till want to stop]
 
(Updated February 2015)
 
Dumb-Down Britain

Dumb-Down Britain
In Crisis we are Smitten,
By a Picture of a Kitten
Dumb-Down Britain
Sterile is Vile,
Sterility means Lack of Virility

Dumb-Down Britain
Keep watching and Listening to the constant Dross,
Keep on Grinning Never Cross
Dumb-Down Britain
View those Same Same Shows,
Accepting just which Way their Wind Blows

Dumb-Down Britain
Never saying what you Really Mean,
Keep it Dreary, Nice and Clean
Dumb-Down Britain
Do just what everyone else does,
Not to Question or Make Fuss

Dumb-Down Britain
Let the Masses pay their Fees,
To Keep the Remaining Few Well Pleased
Dumb-Down Britain
Whatever Mindless thing you Do,
Forget Humility and Honesty,
Just let Shameless Ego Shine through

Dumb-Down Britain
Wrap in Cotton Wool Your Precious Little Things,
To Never Take or Feel, Life’s Vital Learning Stings
Dumb-Down Britain
Live inside your Cosy, Safe Bubble,
Never Look Beyond for that surely Spells Trouble

Dumb-Down Britain
Just carry on the way you are,
Raise the flag and cheer Hurrah
Dumb-Down Britain
And strive to be the next big star
Never knowing what else exists,
Just beneath your ignorant bliss

(January 2015)
 
A Message to Fate

You Mock me No More. You Mock me No More
You Invite me in, only to be Shown the Front Door
You Mock me No More. You Mock me No More
You Build up my Hopes, for them to Swing from the Ropes

You Mock me No More. You Mock me No More
You see me Chase Dreams, that Fall Apart at the Seams
You Mock me No More. You Mock me No More
You watch as they Land and are Trampled into the Floor

This is Life’s Fateful Opportunity for me
In a Parallel Universe I’m joyful and free
And the Life that I lead is Rich and Full
Where breaks are made, fulfilling potential
Fully engaged, contributing, true and meaningful

You Mock me No More, You Mock me No More
No More Ridicule or being presumed the Fool
You Mock me No More, You Mock me No More
Get up, Dust Down and Pay No more Heed to this Rule

(January 2015)
 
In Chant

 
Come Brothers, Come Sisters,
Work down to our blisters
O Come Brothers, Come Sisters
Work down to our blisters
Come Brothers, Come Sisters
Let's work down to our blisters
For Love. Realised with the One above
 
[repeat from start till want to stop]
 
(Updated December 2014)
 
Hangin' Heart

Hangin' Heart left out to dry,
Without moisture dripped from your eye,
Without claret poured from your lips,
To bathe its smouldering hidden depths

Hangin' Heart, its final pump
Stand well back, but there’s no jump
Hangin' Heart, no more to beat
The sound lub-dub turns to a bleep
Hangin' Heart, the Spirit’s left
Forever to roam with Soul bereft

Hangin' Heart,
Please take it down
Drape in its pall
Return to the ground
And attach a warning sign, ne'er to revive
Just i
n case of being found

(December 2014)
 
A Cute Christmas

Silent Night, out of sight
Under the covers full of fright
Pressures on, to stay or run
No callers here for having fun
Last year, with so much cheer
How easily it is for one to fall…

Do please excuse me,
As I now sit this one out,
Locked in a world,
Of mistrust and doubt
Though still wanted to say,
Lest we forget, that no one’s exempt

So open your Heart
To remember Spirit's true call,
When wishing Peace and Goodwill
For not only the few,
But to Every One and us All

(Season’s Greetings from Andrew Ogleby 28th November 2014. Also submitted to Cooltan Arts to be part of the Guardian's Christmas Charity Appeal 2014 blog)

Tommies Gone

We we’re going off to War
Didn’t really know what,
We’re fighting for
But as they cheered us on
And made all that noise
We proudly sang this song,
‘About the Boys’

We’re doing it for King and Country
Train left the station at nine-thirty
On our way to a Foreign Land
Shiny sovereign in our hand
Off to make some noise,
‘About the Boys’

…We’ve been in this God damn trench now,
For six months, maybe more
Going into yet another,
Final Show of this never-ending War!

With the Shelling getting Louder
The Bullets flying Closer
The Weather turning Colder
The Quagmire sinking Deeper
The Rats are now far Bigger
The Lice ever Sweeter
Our Comrades Falling Stiffer
Life’s becoming Grimmer
We can’t take this Hell much Longer

With little noise,
‘About the Boys’

Though the moments in-between
There’s something quite obscene
Because it’s Love (and rum!) that keeps you going
And that you’re doing your Duty,
For those back home not knowing
The futile sacrifice bestowing
A life with such few joys,
‘About the Boys’

So let’s hear one last Hurrah!
For All the Boys

Make some noise
‘About the Boys’

Let’s make some noise
‘About the Boys’
 
(September 2014)
 
The Science Museum & CoolTan Arts Present

For One Night Only!

Treatment or Experiments?
Mind Maps: Stories from Psychology LATES
29.01.14 (18.45-22.00) 

Largactyl Lyrical Wrap (with a ‘w’) by Andrew Ogleby

Roll-up, Roll-up and Don’t be Late!
For the Last of the LATES experience

Presented for your Pleasure, 
By the Fabulous Museum Team and CoolTan Crew
Whose iconic Orange hi-viz vests, 
Will help guide you through

Treatment or Experiment? A Virtual Reality
The Show enhancing Mental Well-being, 
By the Power of Creativity

So Prepare to be Shocked and Amazed at the use of E.C.T

Gasp in Awe at the Wonders of Alternative Therapy

Listen in Horror and Captivation of the Origin, 
For the Prometheus inspired Frankenstein, by M. Shelley

See through the holes in a D.S.M

Before taking Time to Explore,
The remaining realms of Fact and Fantasy

So Roll-up, Roll-up and Don’t be Late!
Before the Sun Sets, on the Last CoolTan-LATES

(For Book Launch 28th April 2014)
 
Lonely Star (To Win for it a Companion)
 
[Lament]

Oh lonely star, lonely star how I wonder, why you are…

After the game as I reflect

Upon that proud, but lonely star, stitched to the chest

That signifies that once we were,

The best, number one

But now it’s time, long overdue

To win for it a companion…

[Kicks In]

The red and white, the feeling’s right

Colours reclaimed with no more shame

The red and white, peoples unite, the World in one

To win for it a companion…

 
In 1990 it nearly returned

But since then the lessons learned

And now it’s time, the stage is set

To banish the hoodoo

And kick-it through the back of the net!

 
The red and white, the feeling’s right

Colours reclaimed with no more shame

The red and white, peoples unite, the World in one

To win for it a companion…

[Drop Tempo]
 
It’s just got to click in place,

We’ve got the players to triumph

But I’ve seen the frustration etched upon their face

Though without that it just wouldn’t be True

‘Cus we all know the pain, we must go through

[Chorus]
 
And as I sign off, one more thing to say

Like the song before in whose spirit I write

I know we can play and do it right,

As is the real English way

Epitomised in Moore majestically swapping shirts

With the immortally great Edison Arantes, Pele!

[Chorus]
 
“We’re not going home, till the cup’s draped in red and white!”

“We’re not going home, till the cup’s draped in red and white!”

[To fade]

(Updated 13th April 2014)
 
Foot Soak
 
Foot soak, Foot soak
It ain't no Joke
Foot soak, Foot soak
Whether Rich or Broke
 
Foot soak, Foot soak
Here's where to begin
Just fill up a bowl if your head's in a spin,
Sit right down,
And put your feet right in
 
Foot soak, Foot soak
If still in doubt
Foot soak, Foot soak
Just wiggle 'em about
Foot soak, Foot soak
And let it all drain out...
 
(6th December 2012)
 
Uplifting Poem

They Say to Laugh,

And Not Frown

Be the Best Medicine

To Not Get Ye Down


But Think how much Lighter You’d Be

To Off-load all Your Shit, appropriately

And How Much Better You’d Feel

To Help Take the Load

From Someone Else, Whenever the Cause


As it’s Good to Feel Free

So Find Your Therapy

Whatever, it be

From [Music], The Arts, Talking/Listening

Through to Cultivating Your Qi

And Let’s Try to Put The Unity,

Back into The Community!

(August 2011)

New Years Affirmation (Jan 2010)

May the Fire in your heart n'er go out
May the Earth you stand upon stay stout
Let Water flow, quench, reassure and refresh
Let Wood Spring forth with direction and hope
And may Metal give inspiration and wonder all about

May all the elements protect, provide and prosper,
And conspire to bring you a long and happy ever after 

God save the Keane
 
(This was part of a match report I did for the 
Coventry City London Supporters Club following the game against Leicester City which Coventry lost 0-1. 

'Think of ‘God save the Queen’ and replace the lyrics with those below. Better still give the old ‘Bollocks’ a dusting off and sing along... [   ].)
 
God Save the Keane

The goal-scoring machine

A partnership with Whelan, potential A-1

 
God save the Keane

He won’t be no ‘has been’

He’ll be the main feature, in ours and Irelands Dreamteam


He leaves defenders prostrate on their face

Bobbin’ ‘n’ weavin’ all over the place

They can’t keep up with him because of his pace

Better watch out keeper he’s comin’ to beat ya!


God save the Keane

We needed that man!

Robbie ‘Keano’ Keane, God save


God save the Keene

Others wouldn’t pay that money

But our spearhead’s as good as there’s been


Oh God save Robbie Keane

God save the mad forays

Oh he’ll have no mercy

All shots not saved!

 
He leaves defenders prostrate on their face

Bobbin’ ‘n’ weavin’ all over the place

They can’t keep up with him because of his pace

So what is our future?

Pure culture


God save the Keane

We needed that man!

We luv our Keane, God saves


God save the Keane

We needed that man!

There is no finer in England’s front three men.


(And as for Gregory………?)

No future, No future, No future for you !

Oh Keano, Oh Keano, Oh, Keano, Sky Blue

Oh Keano, Oh Keano, Oh Keano, Sky Blue

Oh Keano, Oh Keano, Sky Blue Arrggghhhhh!

(March 2005)

 
Observations of Yin and Yang at Work in my Life
(Assignment November 2002)

Welcoming the opportunity to do something a bit more creative than the usual dry, 1,500word essay, I was initially hard pressed to think of what I could come up with. However, after watching a tribute to Spike Milligan on T.V the previous Saturday night, I heard Michael Palin recite On The Ning Nang Nong (1968) at a memorial concert to the great man. This must have struck a chord with me, as on the following Monday morning, travelling to work I penned the first draft of the opening verse in this series Yin Yang Merrily on high (and miserably on low). Which also has overtones of another well-known Milligan ditty The Ying Tong Song (1956).

This I felt went fairly well. So then thought about doing other similar short poem/limerick type verses, loosely in the style of Milligan and also influenced by Lao Tzu (whom, ironically I consider to be quite similar anyway) to try and illustrate how Yin and Yang are at work in my life. I think, the very phrase Yin and Yang lends itself to be interpreted poetically, so I hope I have been able to portray an essence of it’s meaning in this work.

Since I have had no formal training in writing poetry, and anything I was taught at school is now long since forgotten, I hope you will take this into account when reading the verses and above all, hope you enjoy them.

Yin Yang Merrily on High (and miserably on low)

To describe the work,

Of Yin and Yang, or Yang and Yin,

Well where shall I begin?

You could say things that are,

Bright and round are Yang

And flat and dim are Yin

Or a rush for the bus is Yang

While to wait as 3 come along’s Yin.

And one follows the other

So neither can win.

Or a cock-a-doodle-doo’s Yang

And a twit-to-woo’s Yin

OK, just one more

Arrggghh never again!

Or a bang is Yang,

And who keep it in, Yin

But all’s relative…

And when something is

Yin within Yang, or Yang within Yin

Well, that’s when the real fun begins!

(7th October 2002)

 
Effects

Effects of Yin and Yang around me

Some quite obvious,

Others hard to see

The midday sun

The lunar night

The sweat on the brow

The turn off the light

A calm exterior,

But inner fright

Fire in the belly,

But cold in my toes

Witness leaves fall,

As the mushroom grows         

(Early Autumn 2002)

 
Gob Shite
 
The more I’m Yin

The more you’re Yang

But when I’m Yang, you’re Yin

And as I'm predominantly Yin,

The louder you are gettin'

(9th October 2002)
 
 
Off-side

Footballs zenith has since passed.

The game is now on the wane,

After its cycle has come full circle.

The proprietor’s wine tasted good for quite some time.

To them it was a very fine vintage

But with the nutrients,

Being drained from its roots

There only remain a few fruits,

For those with the greatest exploitation to pick them

 
Are we now heading towards,

Those bleak days of old?

A time when football mirrored society

The games nadir

When crowds were down,

Aggression and racism up

And the ball was just given a wallop

 
If this is the case,

Then all those without face

Will simply jump ship

And latch onto the next thing

Coming back round there

 
So good riddance I say!

And I long for the day

When the football they play

Returns to that, to be talked about for long after

No thought about points or of next year

Just the enchantment of the moment

 
And as a Fan, of the once beautiful game

I say to the likes of you Mr Keane,

Don’t be so mean

Instead, try taking up T’ai Chi Ch’uan

(17th October 2002)
 
 
Stag Nations

Yang is on the rise

I can see it in their eyes

Talk of war is grim

I think we need some Yin

(8th October 2002)

 
Dichotomy
 
Each weekday morning

I set off into the Yang,

The bang and the clang

The sights and the smells,

The yells and the bells

The Yang expands

Throughout the day

As I try to retain

An eyeful of Yin,

Come what may

 
To continue with the daily inhibition of my job,

Or strike out for full transformation and change?

Is the quandary that now keeps me maintained

Maybe I should just trust in the Tao,

Knowing that it will all work out in the end, somehow…

(11th October 2002)

 
The Calm before the Dorm
 
Late Summers Yang is virtually spent

Autumnal Yin is ascending

A calmness envelops across the land

After the fever of the short lasting

Right now, a balance exists, similar to Spring,

Before the melancholy of Winter sets in

But have no fear, ‘cause you know next year

It’ll do it all over again without asking                                  

(10th October 2002)

 
Other Half

 
Where I fail, she begins

When she’s in difficulty, I step in
 
She's joyful, patient, calm and relaxed
 
I’m anxious, uncertain and easily vexed
 
 
We’re poles apart
 
But complement each other

Around her I can express myself better

Around me she can trust, and feels safe

Apart we are torn at the waist

 
We make each other laugh

But can drive both insane

Though we retain an element

Of the other’s essence

No matter how close,

We’ll always think,

Using different sides of the brain

 
She does things promptly

While I procrastinate

Then simply forgets

Watching, while I get irate

 
She’s dark, I’m light

I’m morning, she’s night

She’s Fire, I’m Water

I sometimes smother

But she never scolds.

The ocean we swim in

Is neither hot nor cold

But warm and loving

Relying on each other,

To prevent either from drowning

 
A Tale of Two Ends of a Tunnel
 
The push and the shove to get onto the train

Once onboard, relax, and let it take the strain

“The freedom to think, to breathe”

Be yourself once again

 
As we disembark time seems to stands still

No need to rush here, we’ll have our fill

Eat and drink on into the night

No tension around, no need to get uptight

Air’s clean, food fresh and drink chemically free

Though don’t have too much, some of it’s 6.3

 
At the market on Sunday try with all my might

Saw hundreds of people but not a mobile in sight!

Arriving back at Waterloo it didn’t take long

To retake our place back amongst the throng

Delays occurring on the Victoria Line

Bus stuck in jam along the Blackstock Road

 
But what do I care

‘Cause I’m feeling fine

I haven’t put my clock back

I’m still on con-ti-nen-tal time!

(22nd October 2002)

Ain’t No Messin’ with Mr In-between

In a positive frame of mind

Nothing stands in my way

It’s an easy game to play

In touch with my creative side

Ideas come thick and fast

Witty, thoughtful, charming

Energy up, get on with the task!

 
When tables turn

Moods change

Words hard to find

Self conscious, self absorbed

Not wanting to take part

Unhelpful thoughts cloud my mind

Easily annoyed, emotions well-up

Until unable to hide

 
The negatives last longest

Not in a manic sort of way

Just a feeling of heaviness

Until released for a stay

 
The answer I know

Is to remain focused

Keep occupied

“Idle be not”

Haul myself up, dust down

Get back in my stride!                                                         

(25th October 2002)

 
Bibliography

Milligan, S. (1956) The Goon Show, BBC Radio, London

Milligan S. (1968) Silly Verse for Kids, Chaucer Press, Suffolk

Mitchell S. trans. (2002) Tao Te Ching, The Book of the Way Lao-Tzu, Kyle Cathie, London

 
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Andrew G. Ogleby
BSc (Hons) Lic Ac. 
07891 800 606
andrew@healthinharmonyacupuncture.co.uk