Sketches and Reflections of 2012

By Armin Boko and Lou Lieske

It is poetry cast in modern themes of our age, situations and characters
sampled over Australia, The Med, Africa and US.

It deals with topics modern poets shy away from, it is about life here and now, it could not get more contemporary nor more relevent.

It is above all poetry of the common man and an anti-war crusade
and aghast at the permissive ways of the Big Money..

Along the way reader may also indulge in some comical scenes.

And last if not least, it should hopefully encourage younger poets
to shake off restricting shackles of modern poetry, and engage
in issues of the day that matter, as poets of earlier times did so well.
Rudyard Kipling just to mention one; a giant figure in English poetry
fallen out of favour, or the Antepodean 'bush poets' Banjo Paterson
and Henry Lawson both of whom describe their time better than
most historians could.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Apr 19, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468503319

Book preview

Sketches

            and

Reflections

                  of 2012

ARMIN BOKO & LOU LIESKE

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© 2012 by Armin Boko & Lou Lieske. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/11/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-0330-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-0329-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-0331-9 (e)

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Contents

THE CONMASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE

MODERN BLUES GFC STYLE

AMERICA WEEP

THE BIRD

THE FATHER TIME

TO DARIA

THE VOICE

ANCHOR SONG PREAMBLE

FOR HOW MANY ?

ONE OFF MEN

FATHER’S DAY

TIME

THE CRUEL BEAST

EPITAPH TO A BARD

THE STORY OF READHEAD JANE

TO MY LATE FRIEND

MARVELS OF MODERN ARTS AND MUSIC

WORN OUT MIRRORS

METHAMPHETAMINE (Aust.)

TILL DEATH DO US PART

THE UNIVERSE

SHE’LL BE RIGHT MATE

THE IMMIGRANT

TOMB TO THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER

THE BIG YELLOW

THE DREAMTIME

POLITICALY CORRECT

THE GAME OF GOLF

THE BRAT

THE MEN TODAY

NINTY-NINE

MASTERS OF SPIN

THE MEDITERRANANEAN

ABYSSMAL SCIENCE

BALLAD OF AN

EIGHTY YEAR OLD

LAS RAMBLAS

PHIL THE PHILOSOPHER

STATENLOS (Ger.)

THE SHOPPING MALL (Aust.)

PORSCHE JOE (Aust.)

STOCKMARKET BLUES

AT THE DOGS

I HAVE HAD ENOUGH

GROSSMUTERS LAMENT (Ger.)

ComeuPPaNCE

HUMPHREY THE BEAR

MORUNGU

–ISAM/–ISM

THOSE THE GODS LOVE

BUSH FORM GUIDE (Aust.)

CAGED BIRD

VANILLA AND CINNAMON

ILL ADVISED

AFRICA THE INSANE 2012

CHEMICALS MENU

ELLADA

THE BLACK DOG

MORNING PRAYER

THE MERCENARY

MARRIAGE BLISS

QE II AND AUSTRALIA 2012

LEAD FOOT YOUNG JIM (AUST.)

ALL AT SEA

COMET FROM MARS

JUSTICE AND LAWYERS

GAME OF MIXES DOUBLES

ECONOMICAL FORECAST

THE SHAKY ISLES

AUTUMN IN CROATIA

THE ROAD KILL

ALONE

SECOND COMING

MARGARET OLLIE

TEREDO THE WORM

MODERN POETRY

THE SOUTH WIND

BRIEFLY ABOUT THE AUTHORS

THE CONMASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE

2010 AD. A big hurrah for Saragossa (Spain) protestors against GFC:

‘Too big to fail’, we heard the pun before,

Not that it rang true then, nor ever more.–-

Greed is good satiated porkers raged,

Good for whom it was best left unsaid.

You’re worth what money one’s got,

Not a cent more and then guess what?

A bomb went off. News came and everybody was broke

Whoosh!, in cloud of derivatives, CFDs and funny smoke.

Help, help, bail us out, cries of distress echoed far and loud,

It brought in the taxpayers, billions of dollars rescue about.

From authorities to be not a word of censure to be reported,

Take your pick hombre, in cahoots, loco, or just sedated?

Reporters well house trained not to upset the order,

Ask them silly questions that none wants to answer;

Zeroed in on who slept with whom, trivia daily dose,

Pap and useless gossip to fill the peak time and ever so.

So where did the dinero vanish, donde I hear you say?—

Well amigo, men from Mars came and took it away.

2012 AD. Il Pueblo finally wakes up. Occupy Wall Street just the beginning.

In 2012 the giant frigate bird from Mars is back again

called Extreme Money, it gobbles every morsel in sight.

None is safe and there is nowhere to hide. Accountants

pilot the bird where Taxation Department cannot reach,

zillion dollars one milliseconds, gone, disappeared the next

in Fractal Math’s, high volume trades, and rigged deals.

More demos on the streets, crowds want blood, heads to roll

it isn’t happening, the best the crowd can claim a small

victory: Sir Fred Goodwin RBS CEO a knight no longer.

MODERN BLUES GFC STYLE

For banjo or guitar and voice solo in style of late

Woody Guthrie’s

‘…hard times don’t you come back no more.’

Nine to five once set in stone

The old Award is dead and gone.

Refrain: dead and gone,

Oh dead and gone

Dead and gone.

Why pay for two when one may do?

Cleaner or a System Engineer

A commodity only have no fear.          Refrain: have no fear,

Oh have no fear

Have no fear.

Red ledger figure no matter what

Third World coolies will do the lot.

Refrain: will do the lot,

Oh will do the lot

Do the lot.

No more ‘Mr. Nice Guy’ we met before

Steps grim inside to fire a few more.

Refrain: fire a few more,

Oh fire a few more

A few more.

Why pay for two when one can do?

You lay down low hope and pray

To survive and live another day.

Refrain: hope and pray,

Oh hope and pray,

Hope and pray. Etc..

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Mortgage to meet, kids at school

You ponder in funk feeling a fool.

In stony silence the names are red

Ten minutes given to have a tear shed.

Our CEO emptied the treasure vault

Sure it’s the over paid cleaners fault

He might have stuffed up and ran a loss

Who’s got the ticker to confront our Boss?

Why pay for two when one must do?

No more leisure, it’s clear as bell

One takes work home, what the hell.

If the kids want some time to play

Just think of deadline and say nay.

To the memory of John Fitzgerald Kennedy

AMERICA WEEP

Weep America for weep you must

Your heartland is turning to rust.

Weep for the once land of the free

Destitute, on food stamps and cold,

All broke, just how free can one be?

Cry for those out of work, turfed out

Collecting mercies on last handout.

Weep for those giants of past glory

While you walked tall into history:

George Marshall, JFK to name a few

If only we could start the clock anew.

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And weep by now you surely must

For the one percent rich by stealth;

It cannot be anywhere half right—

To siphon quarter of nation’s wealth,

Pay token tax an’ demand more still

‘cause never is enough in one’s till.

Weep America the land