A New Beginning

The “afunnyfarm” Blog has a new beginning after a long hibernation time and a lot of technical problems.

But without a further ado we begin straight on with our most popular column of the Poets of the Month

Here are some poems from our past famous poets

Poets of the Merry Month of May 2015

Life Follows Art
Howard Luke

A Black beetle crawls
Up a willow bark
Of a dog in unison
With a quiz show host
Sits down for dinner
Life is comic book reality
Tv confuses me.
I pull back, back further
Within and am left without
Program schedules run my
Pictures, visual images
Crowd my mind projecting
On the retina to the optic nerve
Soap opera dialogue tumbles
In company or alone
Life follows art

Tree of Life
Howard Luke
An Esoteric discussion climbing the Tree of Life
Reaching for each sphere
Like an ancient mystical Jew
A Lesson in magic and self transformation
Follows me home for a smoke

On the pipe of peace
The American magician Gothically dressed
Except for the soul boy leather jacket
Speaks in paragraphs taken from a gremial
Gives me the award and a spell for later

Whilst listening to the Chieftains
At dawn we walk in the forest
A laboratory for Druids
A prelude to the Maudsley


Brian Ring
‘Twas at the front where I sought glory in the field,
And swanked ad lib. about the number of Huns I’d dispatched.
Immune from death myself I watched my comrades one by one,
Bite the bullet in face of rifle, bayonet and gun,
As one man after another bought a pre-mature demise.
I myself may have died and replaced the ‘soul’ of my mates.
And so ended up in dead man’s shoes.
Or they may have become me (I wonder).

First bloke to go is Joe.’
‘Oh no! I won’t go!’ Screamed Joe.
‘Wassa matter? Quizzed the sergeant,
You got trench fever, battle shyness or moral concussion?’
‘ No sarg, I got no worries, sweet Fannie Adam, Orders is orders,
Sides this ‘ere’s to end all war not over some bloomin, borders.

And so the machine of instant death grinds on.
And some of our finest comrades have gone.
And my mate Joe knows he won’t go in no blaze of glory,
But all for a silly bit of mire labelled ‘no-man’s-lander’

Brian Ring
The ‘weatherman’ wanted the end of civilisation as we know it-
To replace it with a far finer one.
Terrorists and tyrants alike want to destroy towns,
In order to replace them with celestial mansions in gardens
And culture palaces for their peoples.
1969—and the Baader-Meinhof strike all through the Federal Republic,
And few people wanted even a bloodless revolution.
Just who exactly were these so-called ‘weathermen’?
They certainly didn’t intend to forecast the weather let alone change it.
They were so larger than life that they must have regarded themselves
As goddesses or the God of history.
What they have left behind is smoke which cannot subsist without fire.
But they did want to radically overhaul our urban so-called civilisation
With all its trite bourgeois ramifications
The ideal is quite straightforward consisting as it does of the
Radical overhaul of society
by a self-perpetuating set of self-appointed Guardians of mankind.
There masters from and to the people will administer
Justice from the hallowed halls from them on high



Captain Courageous
Sasha Dee
“We must demand that every fit young man come forward to enlist and that every young man who chooses to remain at home be shunned by his community.”
Rudyard Kippling

Harvey Cheyenne at last
Inherits the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – he becomes a Man.
That is the story that is the glory
Of Captain Courageous

A great work Rudyard
You are always good in your
Storytelling and literature
They awarded you with a
“Nobel Prize for your achievements”
You were recognised
In spite of your hackneyed ideology
Of “White man’s burden
And “east is east and west is west”
And many more other idiosyncrasies
But there must be a miss
In your proud heart bits
When you sent your son
Your adamant spoilt heady head
Ill in physic, ill willing
Ill met by the war of the trenches which
The Generals played it as a game
And countries madly went mad.
“If any question why we died
Tell them, because our fathers lied”
A great epitaph for your dead Jack
But didn’t you worship the wrong jack
Until your death and never learned from
Your own story “Captain Courageous” ”Physician of mental health issues”
You never healed yourself
Sadly you did not keep your head
When all about you lost theirs, and
You let your dreams master of you
You never became a Man even
After a lot of spilt blood and tears

“Even before John was 16, Kippling was writing about getting him into the army. John’s own letters to his parents during the last few weeks of his life add to the poignancy of the tragedy.”


Lord of the Flies
Sasha Dee
Lord of the Flies
The severed decomposed
Pig head on a steak!
Lord of flies, am I really lost?
Would I ever be found?
Lord of the flies!
Is this really the face of God
That laboured to create the
Seven skies and seven seas
Seven planets and
Seven-layered universe?
Is this Jehovah
That gets angry
At the short-comings of man
Whom he created
In his own image?
Is this the face
That demands attention
Worship and obedience;
Must be frightened of
And one must live forever
Under the shadow of fear?

Is child the father of man
Or a son of the Satan?
Are the children the reflection
Of the parents and the society;
Or a nasty image of their own making?

If man is made in the image of God
What God was he or is?
Is he really the God Jehovah
Of the Old Testament
Or the Allah of Koran
Or the Father of Christ
Whom he had forsaken
Or Vishnu of the Hindus
Kinder and protector of humans
Or the angry firebrand
Dancer Shankar of destruction
To create a new world again
How much truth there is
In the “Gospel Truth?
Do human questions
Have human answers?

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