May Sunshine ©
By
Michael Casey
Bright Skies and Fat thighs wobbly flesh and tight vests.
Summer has arrived and people strip, though you wish they didn’t.
Hairy chests and string vests, sandals with socks.
Fresh air and sunshine with body odour, oh so refined.
Sunglasses with mirrors on, oh so cool, but only in their imagination.
Women’s sunglasses worn by men, anything goes as the sun is so hot.
Tights discarded, flesh as blindingly white as snow revealed.
Varicose veins and mangled toes are released into the sun.
Old men roll up their trouser legs and sit on garden walls.
Bald old men use handkerchiefs to cover their bald spot, even if snot
Included, but their bald spots must be covered snot or not.
Old women sit on park benches legs spread to catch the air.
Young girls pass by in their under-ware, or so it seems to the old.
Lads in ripped Tee shirts screaming loudly at each other
Big bad dogs running wild, surely to kill a child.
Its sunny and Summer is here, everybody queues for overpriced ice
Cream, but licking fingers must be done as Summer is here.
Back yard barbecue sends smoke and food poisoning into the air.
Old women mutter and bring in their bloomers and all their washing.
Noisy rubbish music murders the Summer sun, party time has begun.
Loud too loud conversation, or talk of relegation tears the blue sky
You have a headache because you sat in the sun too long, your wife’s
sunglasses and your snotty handkerchief on your head failed you.
You retreat to bed as the karaoke begins, its punishment for your sins
Later you wife comes to bed and you slumber like sea lions.
Outside the generous neighbours send smoke signals to all
Later their is alarm, they have set fire to their garden fence.
The sea lions laugh, their old tired flesh wobbles like jellies.
The fire brigade run a hose through their house to put out the fire.
You thank God for sprinkling holy water on the noise makers.
So finally the old sea lions can rest in peace, but its too hot to sleep.
So the old don’t do karaoke they do the hokey cokey instead, the lying
down version, they may be old but the sun has made them young
Again.
By
Michael Casey
Bright Skies and Fat thighs wobbly flesh and tight vests.
Summer has arrived and people strip, though you wish they didn’t.
Hairy chests and string vests, sandals with socks.
Fresh air and sunshine with body odour, oh so refined.
Sunglasses with mirrors on, oh so cool, but only in their imagination.
Women’s sunglasses worn by men, anything goes as the sun is so hot.
Tights discarded, flesh as blindingly white as snow revealed.
Varicose veins and mangled toes are released into the sun.
Old men roll up their trouser legs and sit on garden walls.
Bald old men use handkerchiefs to cover their bald spot, even if snot
Included, but their bald spots must be covered snot or not.
Old women sit on park benches legs spread to catch the air.
Young girls pass by in their under-ware, or so it seems to the old.
Lads in ripped Tee shirts screaming loudly at each other
Big bad dogs running wild, surely to kill a child.
Its sunny and Summer is here, everybody queues for overpriced ice
Cream, but licking fingers must be done as Summer is here.
Back yard barbecue sends smoke and food poisoning into the air.
Old women mutter and bring in their bloomers and all their washing.
Noisy rubbish music murders the Summer sun, party time has begun.
Loud too loud conversation, or talk of relegation tears the blue sky
You have a headache because you sat in the sun too long, your wife’s
sunglasses and your snotty handkerchief on your head failed you.
You retreat to bed as the karaoke begins, its punishment for your sins
Later you wife comes to bed and you slumber like sea lions.
Outside the generous neighbours send smoke signals to all
Later their is alarm, they have set fire to their garden fence.
The sea lions laugh, their old tired flesh wobbles like jellies.
The fire brigade run a hose through their house to put out the fire.
You thank God for sprinkling holy water on the noise makers.
So finally the old sea lions can rest in peace, but its too hot to sleep.
So the old don’t do karaoke they do the hokey cokey instead, the lying
down version, they may be old but the sun has made them young
Again.
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