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This one's number fifty,
I've reach half century.
Mouthing off right shifty,
No plenipotentiary.
But worry not ye readers,
I won't be stopping here.
There's plenty more to rant of,
You need have no fear.
I wonder if I'll reach,
One hundred 'fore I snuff it.
I'll need new subject matter,
To...
The host with the most,
Holds a feast with the least.
Just to show the poorest,
They're a greedy little beast.
It seems that now it is,
The state of play today.
To flaunt excess of wealth,
Low ethics on display.
And it is only us,
Enable such behaviour.
Accepting this as normal,
No critique or...
Another entry for my blog,
Something from the captain's log.
Describing a day in the life of me,
It may not be your cup of tea.
I guess I begin at the start of the day,
Going to sleep, 'hitting the hay'.
That's around two or three in the morning,
Long after the time I've started yawning.
Crawl...
I'd always wondered about stimming. Something I've not been aware of doing, and yet the descriptions had some sort of frisson for me, but I never got my head around why that would be. I've felt desire to fiddle with fingers or objects, but as soon as, that seems to be internally suppressed...
Late diagnosis like a huge exhale,
The realisation you weren't a fail.
A rush, a hit, a powerful drug.
Knowing you're not just a useless lug.
First that initial trepidation,
Even denial and obfuscation.
"That's not me, I'm not autistic.
I can't believe that that's realistic."
It's only on...
Looking back at what I've written,
It sounds to me like I was smitten.
With self denial and total disgust,
It seems it's only myself I distrust.
Most of these rhymes just sound like excuses,
To justify my continued abuses.
There! I've just done it, once again,
Repeating a boring and trite...
Oh goodness I'm onto page three.
This blog's a mistake I now see.
Should I just keep writing,
Endlessly fighting,
To produce a sweet repartee?
--==oOo==--
Disconcerting rhymes are my forte,
Writing another is like a sortie.
Except they ain't planned with precision,
Rather writ bad and read...
Oh my gosh it's getting bad,
What am I going to do?
My inspirations fading,
It's left me in a stew.
It's my own damn fault y'know,
For ranting far too much.
Using all my topics up,
Drifting out of touch.
The answer's finding more to learn,
And process then spew back.
I need some motivation,
A...
I'm doing this far too much,
Could it be it's become a crutch?
Pumping out bile,
With nary a smile,
And totally out of touch.
I just chart death and disaster,
Unpleasantness writ ever faster.
Disturbing verses,
Eliciting curses,
And patched with sticking plaster.
Maybe putting myself down...
When you open your eye's and look,
What is it that you see?
Are you taking in all of the data,
Are you viewing base reality?
If you think so then you're deluded,
I'm sorry to have to suggest.
It may seem the greatest cam in the world,
But daguerreotype at it's best.
In fact if you could...
It's lucky this website has blog's.
'cos I'm outpouring cat's and dog's.
If posting in forum,
I'd spoil the decorum,
And then it would only rain frog's.
So what's in the news today?
Something on which I can say.
It's all so dire,
The country's on fire,
And violence now is the play.
Who's...
Lovely DeSantis and nice Mr Abbott,
Revealed they have a nasty habit.
On a day when temperatures reached their highest,
They showed the people they're totally biased.
Cancelling laws that protected workers,
'cos the industry said they were only shirkers.
Who needs a rest break at forty degree's...
I don't call it poetry or prose,
I know it lacks good timing.
It's certainly isn't a rose,
It's more like whining while rhyming!
But as long as I say it first,
It stops all the others from same.
It slakes the insult thirst,
And only plays into my game.
But maybe that makes me the loser,
And...
I need a cure to stop this rhyming,
Or up the wall I'll soon be climbing.
What's the cause that makes it happen,
Even sometimes when I'm crappin'.
If I'm out and walking roun',
Then I cannot write it down.
Within seconds it's all gone,
But replaced by another one!
Is it a curse or is it a...
The muse is with me once again,
A shame for you it just means pain.
Today my thoughts have all been pooling,
Reading that lot must be grueling.
Where it comes from who can say,
I absolve myself that way.
It's not me, I vainly plead,
Stab me not, for I do bleed.
It's the voices, they're to blame...
Who likes going on journey's?
Queuing with luggage on gurney's.
Getting the squirts,
And how that hurts,
And needing some legal attorneys.
A holiday's bound for disaster,
Just ask a weather forecaster.
The airports will strike,
The prices will hike,
And the bed's will be cold alabaster.
And...
There once was an autistic man,
Who came up with a useful plan.
He climbs up a steeple,
To avoid all the people,
Staying up there as long as he can.
The problem with neural diversity,
Is it causes too much adversity.
Cognitive conditions,
Are neural munitions,
For those who live in perversity...
I shed some tears,
Down the years,
But really not all that many.
Not nearly enough,
I seemed to act tough,
Like I just couldn't give a ha'penny.
But reality is,
The more that I whizz,
Thru emotional moments sans feelings.
I get in a tizz,
No analysis,
Will help the pain with some healing.
How...
I'm struggling now to think somehow,
Of a topic on which I can rant.
And I need a new metre, before my rhymes peter
Out 'cos my talent is scant.
I'll try something new,
And maybe it works,
Or maybe it's bound for disaster.
A turn of the screw,
Plus a couple of quirks,
Or hit rock bottom much...
A ballistic missile,
Is somewhat fissile,
But mostly it's fusion it uses.
A two stage device,
Is really quite nice,
It's what the scientist chooses.
The Soviets and US,
Tried to progress,
A one stage device at first.
But Teller and Ulam,
And those before 'em,
Said this made a better airburst...
