AEROSOLS OF PLAGUE

my new smash hit lyrics below

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lyrics

Aerosols of PLague, flying through the air
Aerosols of plague landing in your hair
Aerosols of plague, who knows where they land
Aerosols of plague, make sure you wash your hands

RAP: Don't ask me to wear a mask
Unless you want to hear about my asthma attacks
Bill Gates is not your mate
he wants to round you up and vaccinate
And fill you with apps from windows 10
he wants to update you again and again
He's in cahoots with Big Pharma
And he plays mahjong with Obama (allegedly)

Song: Aerosols of plague spreading with 5G
Aerosols of plague in your sweta, your poo your wee,
I've had to postpone my urine therapy
I've written a tweet to Q-Anon
Begging please Q help me.

credits

from Aerosols of Plague, track released June 29, 2020
i did everything HA HA HA HA HA!

#BILLGATESGATE

uplifting were in this together type poem in the age of Covid 19

sorry I havnt written for a while but i have been camping out at the local anti 5G camp. As you will be aware the 5 gee gees of the apocalpse are circling and we are in dire straits like mark Noppler.

As you know i pride myself on being an inspirationl teacher and sage so it would be remit of me to not write an uplifting poem for the difficlut coronavirus times that we are living in. i also make top memes:

so without further ado hgere is my poem. i will give it a title when i have finished, im doing it spontaneously like autimatic writing and might channel John Lennon and prince.

Together In It

we are staying home for love 

alone sometimes like a fish in a glove

discompbobulated, the world is being de-populated

Nanas are having to learn about tech,

Grandads are saying "oh heck! this is a pain in the neck, I am sick of i-pads and taking all these tablets, 

I hate Big Pharma, 

but I love Nana 

and hope this bug wont harm her. 

WASH YOUR HANDS EVERYONE"

Grandad's an old charmer. 

Lets make him run upstairs dressed as a spiderman for charity.

Familes do zoom singalongs like they are Von Traps

the NHS locksmiths are getting weekly claps

everyone is making sourdough bread 

why is this?

I cant get flour.

some people want to go out

they dont beleive the hoax and they are having a shout

its a fucking liberty

fucking with our liberty

tra la la bibbety bibbety

i'm a bit bore dnow

BUT ARENT WE ALL! 

this is our time to stand tall

doing PE on youtube

making PPE with old yogurt pots and glue 

(ask me how)

we are a daily mosaic 

of internet mistakes

"Ha ha ha - he skyped the news in his pants"

we exclam and. "look at all those books!"

clever people everywhere with opinions and nostrils

If only everyone had some cabaret lounge curtains

but we didnt know this was coming!

or did we? 

jolly people cooking chips in their flat

randomers making a celebrity squares echoey orchestra 

singing a song along.

WHEN WILL IT END?

Where is Barrack Obama?

But one day when this is all over

we will bein the clover in the sunlit hinterlands

brass bands, children doing hand stands, happy nans

banging pans, no stay at home bans and home made flans, 

we'll all have sun tans, and smiley happy faces like we're in an advert for bran (based cereals) 

and we will say "What just happened?"

And i will reply.

It was the rapture my children.

but that will just be a joke because I'm mad me.

THE END. 

topical jane Austen Poem

Topical Uri Geller Poem

he wil be in heaven with Micheal jackson soon. 

firewoks

hello, i thought id blogged this poem of old a  long time ago but i cant find it? it must have fizzled aways and dispapeared off my blog. TYPICALK! 

anyway seeing as its bonfore Night I thought i would share it for your amusemnt after youve had too many sausages and baked potatos, and too much beer and your contemplating life while look into the embers of what would have been a Catholic man who was burned to death 

after he'd been stretched to a height of 9 
foot tall on a rack in the Towel of London.

[modern day guy forks]


via GIPHY
BASTARDS - WHO DOES THAST!

fireworks

like cocks filled with gunpower

ejaculating into darkness
to the sound of gasps in their thrawl

with their sparkle stardust

 fizz jism schism

bang! pop! wheeeee!

then they fall back 

grounded to mother earth

like a lover's limp member

there casing found soggy

in the grass the day after

their journey ending 

in the vacuum nothingness

of the empty back wall 

of the universe of space
via GIPHY

like the Chinese thwarted sperm

in a population limitation programme

ironic huh? 

Didn't the Chinese invent fireworks

and, like Moby said,

we are all made of stars

and we end up in the gutter

or dying of syphhilis in Reading gaol.

Oh, the futility of life's flash,via GIPHY

all our deaths are premature

like a firework wank

life is pointless, 

but we must sparkle, 

like the diaphonous moments

we must light up God's sky

while we can.

via GIPHY
The End.

Copyright Helene Smithee

Halloween POem - AUDIO!!! Ima record star!

i have posted this Halloween masterpeice before but just laetley I have empkloyed a sound engineer so that i can put my importent voice

down to posteritity for future gernerations to listen to and lean from. 

i am have paid Terry the sound engineer £600 a day witch sounds like a lot of mulah if you dont know anything about the arts but you have to pay for quality as you with here when you listen to my latest opic.



TERRY IS A VETERAN OF THE MSUIC SEEN and tells me he been in lots of bands including Hawkwind

and Manchestre band Fall

[fall guy Mark Smith]

aswell as         The Three Dungarees

(IKnow - who knew?!) hes very talented and versatile as you will here whe you listen to my gothic masterpeice, SO WITHOUT FURTHER ADO HERE IT IS! 

Halloween 

The melancholy pale maiden, 

bloodless face of moon, translucent 

like a haunted ghost 

is she mestruating; 

does she even exist? 

She cries sad, 

silver, glittery tears 

glimpsing down onto the spooky, dark wood 

atmospheric, swirling 

mist like gossamer 

envelopes the forrest 

like a hypnotic dancer 

casting her spell 

on mesmerized menfolk 

catches in drops 

in the webs of the deadly 

black widow bitterly waiting 

her lover and prey 

a twig snaps! 

and vampiric bats terrify, 

flitting their tanglous wings 

flapping fear into your silken, fair hair 

a fox, a red gash, dashes out 

hurtling after wide eyed rabbit 

disturbed by the madness 

of mixamotosis 

bounces in the glint 

of his bulging dead eyes 

a clock chimes: 

bong! bong! bong! bong! bong!Bong! 

Bong! Bong! bong! bong! Bong! bong! 

The midnight hour, 

a time for witching, watching 

the cauldron pots of spells cast 

and disinterred corpses that dance 

there dance macabre stealing souls 

with their hard boiled egg zombie eyes 

of those who have only half died 

these evil doers will knock on your door 

steel you away 

and eat out your heart 

this is no trick or treat; no time to be weak 

keep you cricifix near to stave off your fear 

and pray for the asylum of sunlight to come soon. 

while in the distance you hear the blood curdling howl 

of the she wolf, as she is mated with the werewolf possessed and watched by the goat head 

of the lord of all eveil. 

Jesus, please help us. 

The end.

credits

released October 30, 2019 

poet Helene Butterfnut Squash Smithee