Elliott Manley
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Modern Art

That Ansel Adams didn’t have a clue
He missed what I thought everybody knew
When you take a snapshot of a pretty view
You must put your granny and granddad in too

Pablo Picasso was as daft as a brush
He must have painted in a helluva rush
His lopsided women are all of a mush
If you ask me that geezer was some kind of lush

Four minutes of silence “composed” by John Cage
Stockhausen thinking he’s some sort of sage
Give me a musical - I like Elaine Paige
That avant garde claptrap puts me in a rage
Oh, and those “poets” whose poems don’t rhyme
And use little letters the whole blooming time
And dancers whose movements are no kind of mime
So you can't understand them most of the time

Don't get me started on bricks at The Tate
Or cows in formaldehyde in a glass crate
Apparently I’m “crusty” and “out of date”
But I know what I like and I know what I hate

Contents

Visa Waiver Form (My Giddy Aunt)

US Immigration looks for terrorists and whores,
But most of all they want to keep the stupid from their shores.
One item on the list of what they want to know,
Which you must answer carefully before they’ll let you go
Is “Have you now or ever been involved in genocide?”
My Auntie Joan was flummoxed; found it tricky to decide,
“Aren’t genocides those flowers with the pretty yellow petals?
I think my Eric grew them when he won his garden medals.”
And so she ticked the “yes” box, not knowing it’s abhorred,
Or that she’d be held at gunpoint and her cavities explored.
They spun her round and sent her home so fast it made her giddy.
The Yankee G-Men got it right; deport the daft old biddy.

Stardust

We are stardust, you and I, she said.
Forged in the cosmic fire
Shining in starlight
Inevitably, inexorably together
Bound in the eternity of gravity.
We are stardust, you and I, she said.

You cannot be Sirius, he said.

Dr Whom*

Please take me to your Tardis and unlock it,
Let me see you use your sonic key.
I'd rather go by time machine than rocket

Because I’d like to visit Davy Crockett
In history, which is where I long to be.
Please take me to your Tardis and unlock it.

If something sticks I’ll thump it with my socket
Wrench and that will sometimes fix it, just you see.
I’d rather go by time machine than rocket,

Apart from when the gears slip off a spocket
And we go spinning through the vortex, you and me.
Please take me to your Tardis and unlock it.

* A villanelle is rather a posh kind of poem so I thought it needed rather a posh title.
Time travel’s my adventure, please don’t knock it,
Though Cybermen and Daleks make me pee,
I’d rather go by time machine than rocket.

When it’s nearly 1600 by my clock, it
Means it’s time for Shakespeare, not for tea.
Please take me to your Tardis and unlock it,
I'd rather go by time machine than rocket.

A Pair of Shorts 1, Joe’s Lament

The sale didn’t stand a chance
And I can’t stand before my cronies
Since I forgot my lucky pants

To be a salesman takes cajones
Mine nestle best in Chinese silk
Now I can’t stand before my cronies

Or others of the saleman's ilk
Because my underwear was wanting
Unlike my best of Chinese silk

All day a-fidgeting and grunting
My crutch in polycotton’s clutch
Because my underwear was wanting
I’ve never needed silk so much
I’d really hoped to make that sale
My crutch in polycotton’s clutch

Who knew how miserably I’d fail
I’d really hoped to make that sale
The sale that never stood a chance
’Cause I forgot my lucky pants

A Pair of Shorts 2, Joe’s Partner’s Lament

The sale didn’t stand a chance
We’d hoped to clinch it on the day
But Joe forgot his lucky pants

The punter led a merry dance
And I don’t mean a sweet ballet
The sale didn't stand a chance

Cash was expected in advance
We’d make the sale come what may
’Til Joe forgot his lucky pants

I’ve got a villa to finance
And would have, ’til we went astray
The sale didn’t stand a chance
Joe now curses, shouts and rants
A rotten trick for fate to play
That he forgot his lucky pants

We’d planned an Autumn break in France
We can’t go now, we made no pay.
The sale didn't stand a chance
’Cause Joe forgot his fucking pants

Nice Young Man

- Mellifluous and Cascade
- Serendipity and Autumnal
- Sylvan and Delight

At 46,
in this company of old ladies,
I am still
"That nice young man".

The leader
of the poetry workshop
suggests we
break the ice
oil the gears
get the juices flowing
with a quickfire
snappy snappy
round the table round,
each of us to say
our two favourite words.
Go!

- What did he say, dear?
- Is it my turn?
- I wanted "halcyon" but Dierdre said it
- I need more time to think
- I don't understand the rules
- My husband always told a story...

The leader
looks at his watch.
Twenty minutes in
and still
twelve old ladies to go.

At last it's my turn
- Gusset and Cake
There is a sussuration of tweed.

Did he say "gusset"?
I thought he was such a
nice young man.

The Cautionary Tale of Cedric Mouse and Simon Louse

I sliced and diced and added spice
And in a trice, I’d served with rice,
A dish with which I could entice
My sweet shy Cedric into vice.
That shyster ate it, called it “nice”,
Not once or twice, he said it thrice.
In my mind’s eye I saw us spliced
And then he left, as cool as ice.

I thought tonight would end with kisses
But al I’ve got is dirty dishes.

Our lives are cursed by fly-by-nights
Who view us girls as their birthrights,
But quite my worst was Simon Price
Whose Merc turned out to be his wife’s.
Some men are mice, some men are lice,
So girls, I urge, take my advice
(I’ll try to make my words concise),
Steer clear of men, they’re just not nice.
© 2015 Elliott Manley
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