I ask only to be remembered for my unflinching obedience to man, I do not move from where it is decided that I should remain, When needed I am there to contain, apples, sweets, anything I can.
Alas I am told I am no longer needed and therefore redundant, And am to be superseded by plastic bags of the clear variety, What has happened to a society, who's callousness is so abundant?
My plastic successor does not open easily with a flick of the wrist, When my master spins me, I do not, as does plastic, unfold, As his servant I do what I'm told, and my ears remain a'twist!
I am not transparent either, so I can keep a secret hidden away, See the excitement on the child's face as I open to expose, My contents before the tot's nose, making that child's day.
Rarely am I discarded after one use, as is the way with plastic, But retained and used again to contain someone's lunch, Or perhaps flowers in a bunch, or something even more fantastic.
And in fun, when I am burst my manly report cannot be compared, With the feeble little 'plop' of the plastic substitute toy, / cause the nasty little boy, to laugh as his sister runs scared.
I have other uses too, with which plastic bags will never compete, Like, when dampened, used to iron-in razor thin trouser creases, But sometimes here I go to pieces, I am averse to water and heat!
I do what is asked of me even when I am suffering from the crimps, "Fold me, I stay so, open me, I stay so, close me, I stay so, Flibbertigibbet plastic though, does just what it damn well thinks. The great brown carrier bag (RIP), twice, thrice, nay four times my size, (Now replaced by plastic carriers opaque, bearing garish designs), He once warned of the signs, foretelling my pending demise.
And now that my life is through, I remain ever friendly to my masters, I will bio degrade myself, or with harmless odour, be cremated, But burnt plastic is toxicated, threatening environmental disasters,
My parents were once a tree and now others are facing extinction, Animals and forests must be saved, so my fate sealed, I must go, I give way and glow, as I bow to the species of higher distinction.
Now you transparent plastic must end my reign, cuss your humanoid inventor, And lead the everlasting litter race to meet their packaging needs, I see through you who succeeds, me your superior, your mentor.
I ask again, never forget me as I was, despite my fame, unaltered, Year in, year out, I was there from January until December, My obedience remember, 'till the day I departed, never faltered.
MARCONI
If he were here with us today, What would Gugliemo Marconi say. After devoting a lifetime of endeavour, To inventing WIRE -LESS for our pleasure, Would HE think that it was ever so clever, This CABLE television, I think not - NEVER!
THE MEDIOCRE MANSION
One grand swipe of the sledgehammer, signals my fate, As my neighbour, once again expands his rural estate, I am filled with apprehension, As he adds yet another extension, To his semi-detached residence along at number eight.
All day and all night long, yet again the noise will encumber, Any possibility of respite, or a single minute's slumber, And is he filled with remorse? Well, he says he is, of course, And then promptly continues creating his damn synthetic thunder.
How wonderful it all used to be before the arrival of this pest, To enjoy a sweet Martini on Sunday afternoon at rest, Now, no sooner is he done, Than he builds another one, This un-neighbourly loonie nitwit on his extension-seeking quest.
Does he feel so inferior that he really needs this expansion, To turn his little semi into a mediocre mansion, So that friends will show surprise, And comment on its size, As he points to the the location of his next planned supporting stanchion?
I am recently troubled with nothing other, than one wicked thought, In that I really do wish by accident, he would hit a main support, To teach the man a lesson, And end his mad obsession, So that I may return to solitude, to enjoy the life I ought!
TAXATION
Of all the things in this universe, Money is the hardest to obtain, And when you do, what is worse, You have to give it all away again.
THE SAME TO YOU WITH KNOBS OFF
In the year of Grace, nineteen hundred and ninety four, There existed a depression, (not as ruthless as the one, seventy years before), Yet it came to pass that many thousands of people became unemployed, Which coincided with a strange disappearance of knobs, hitherto enjoyed.
Knobs, that is to say, with which power was injected or regulated, And those used on televisions, videos, and stereo systems were eliminated, And were replaced with remote controls and buttons with numbers, Which left people permanently seated to evolve as couch cucumbers.
I ask, "What is left for the inventor, who’s ideas get ever crazier, Is he so determined in his quest to make humans lazier and ever lazier, Will he perhaps one day, turn from his obsession with removing knobs, And invent things that provide people with worthwhile jobs?"
THIS EVERYTHING
Who said that we live in wondrous times of innovation and invention, Who, yes who had this erroneous contention, That ignores past times when most was magnificent, In an era not so long past that was more munificent, And achievements were additionally significant?
Five years past the end of world war two saw the real dawning, And the effort and skills that lead to the spawning, Of an epoch filled with eagerness and fire, Of old and young alike to assert their desire, To install the means to live life higher.
And so it was that they set about to manufacture things needed, And without any doubt they all succeeded, Night and day they worked without the need for stealth, To bring to all, the hope of wealth, And also, care under a 'NATIONAL HEALTH.'
In THOSE wondrous days when they had to start it all again, They did so from NOTHING and really did attain, EVERYTHING on unexceptional pay, But these monymanics who manage today, Started with this EVERYTHING, then threw it ALL away.
THE WINE CONNOISSEUR'S ADVICE
If, when selecting a bottle of wine, You desire an ambrosian treat, Drink whatever takes your fancy, And to hell with the colour of the meat!
