Choose Your T-Shirt

September 05, 2015 by Neal zetter

Choose your t-shirt with care
Do you want the world to be wowed and stare
At your uniqueness
And stand out freakiness?
Or do you prefer to blend in
Run with the pack
Shout aloud
“I'm in with the in-crowd”
Do you want a picture front and back?

V-neck? Round-neck?
Sleeves or no sleeves?
This isn't just an item of clothing
It's a statement of what you believe in!
Pick a political slogan of your choice
Provide it with a platform, give it a voice
“Sack the Government!”
“Love the Environment!”
“No Nukes – Disarmament!”
“Mandela is Innocent!*”
(*Nothing wrong with retro you understand)
Why not select your favourite singer or band?
Beatles, Stones, Ramones, Nirvana
Muse, Foo Fighters, Bananarama
Elvis, Queen, Johnny Cash
The Smiths, Oasis or the Clash?

Tight, long, large, baggy
Snug, short, small, saggy
Display a self-portrait
A Tweetie Pie cartoon
A national flag
Neil Armstrong on the moon
Replica football team kits
Pattern only tops are fine
Custom-make your own design
But hey, don't copy mine!

Choose your t-shirt with care
Beware: Don't become a square
Go where those fashion eagles dare
Though on hot days you might opt for bare-chested
Girls beware – you could get arrested
But please reject Gap, Coke, Apple, Hard Rock etcetera,
Free corporate advertising is anathema?
Stop!
Burn the lot!
Instead model a movie star
Monroe, Tarantino
Dean, Pitt, Di Nero
Or fly into action as an iconic superhero
TV programme, title of a book
Let it refine and define your look

Whatever you decide on
Choose your t-shirt with care
Like you'd choose a husband or wife
And it'll hug you and love you
For the rest of its life
It doesn't matter about shoes, suits, dresses or underwear
So long as you choose your t-shirt with care

Stickman

September 04, 2015 by Neal zetter

I'm a stickman
No fingers or toes
I'm a stickman
Don't need to wear clothes

I'm a stickman
I've got a stick wife
I've been a stickman
All of my life

I'm a stickman
A bunch of black lines
I'm a stickman
See me on street signs

I'm a stickman
So thin, thin, thin
I'm a stickman
No skin, skin, skin

I'm a stickman
I've never been born
I'm a stickman
I've only been drawn

I wish I was strong and built from bricks
But I'm a stick man just made from sticks

Hot Stuff

September 02, 2015 by Neal zetter

There's a hole in the plate
A hole in the mat
A hole in the table
Scorched fur on the cat

My trousers are burning
My throat is ablaze
The pot used for cooking
Now disintegrates

A hole's in the carpet
And on the stone floor
A window has blown out
We've lost the front door

The fire brigade's coming
The flames can't be stopped
'Cause Mum's piri piri chicken was...
Hot! Hot! Hot!

There's No Such Thing as a Wazzock

August 26, 2015 by Neal zetter

There's no such thing as a Wazzock Mum said
As she turned the light off and tucked me in bed
Those shadows that shake must be all in my head
There's no such thing as a Wazzock

There's no such thing as a Wazzock you see
The creature that loves to eat children for tea
Though in the dark four eyes are following me
There's no such thing as a Wazzock

There's no such thing as a Wazzock it's true
That's why you'll not find them in cages in zoos
It's rumoured they're furry and indigo blue
There's no such thing as a Wazzock

There's no such thing as a Wazzock I know
As tall as a tree from its hat to its toe
With horns of a rhino and claws of a crow
There's no such thing as a Wazzock

There's no such thing as a Wazzock it seems
So I can sleep safely and have pleasant dreams
Why would I be woken by squawking and screams?
When there's no such thing as a Wazzock

Give Him a Ball

August 22, 2015 by Neal zetter

Many of the world's top footballers have used the sport to escape their life of poverty and even refugee status:

Give him a ball so he can kick

Curl, dribble, head, learn incredible tricks

Give him a ball so he has the key

The means, the power, the hope to succeed

Give him a ball to open the door

Escape poverty, hunger, famine and war

Give him a ball - he'll exceed expectations

Find fame, wealth, health and explore foreign nations

Give him a ball to raise him high up

Win medals, trophies, perhaps the World Cup

Give him a ball then watch him soar

As his shots hit the net and the crazy crowds roar

Give him a ball and he'll never die

Give him a ball and he'll fly

Kids Love Ketchup

August 16, 2015 by Neal zetter

Kids love ketchup on their chips
Kids love ketchup on their crisps
Kids love ketchup on their eggs
Kids love ketchup on their bread

Kids love ketchup on baked beans
And to drown the taste of greens
Kids love ketchup though of course
Posh kids say 'tomato sauce'

Kids love ketchup on pork chops
Chicken, chocolate, lollipops
Kids love ketchup they form queues
Just to watch that ketchup ooooooooooze

Kids love ketchup in meat pies
Make my bottle jumbo size
Kids love ketchup on their plates
It's the relish they most rate

Kids love ketchup on their hair
Hands, nose, clothes and everywhere
Kids love ketchup twenty-four seven
Like to live in ketchup heaven

Kids love ketchup on their cheese
Kids love ketchup freshly squeeeeeeeeeezed
Dig the red ketchuppy mess
Do kids love ketchup? Yes! Yes! Yes!

Bored Superhero

August 15, 2015 by Neal zetter

I'm a bored superhero
With nothing left to do
I've saved the Earth a hundred times
And distant planets too
Defeated every villain
And foiled their evil plans
No longer called to action
I'm not a busy man

I'm a bored superhero
Have you a job for me?
I'll help grannies crossing roads
Or rescue cats from trees
I'd rather face grave danger
And flex my muscles tight
Show off my mighty powers
Beat baddies in a fight

I'm a bored superhero
Now wearing normal clothes
With costume packed inside a box
I'm just another Joe
Nobody ever knows me
When I stroll into town
But I've made it a safer place
There's no crime to be found

I'm a bored superhero
So hire me if you like
I'll clean your house at triple speed
Or trace your stolen bike
Perform at children's parties
Or walk your dog for you
I'm a bored superhero
With nothing left to do

Red

August 15, 2015 by Neal zetter

Red is a stunning sunset horizon
Red is a flickering flame
Red is the hottest hue you'll lay your eyes on
Red is half the pack of a playing card game
Red is the brightness in neon lighting
Red is the blood of Count Dracula's biting
The Devil himself is red, red, red!
Which shade did Dad choose to paint our garden shed?
Red!

Don't confuse the Red Sea with the Dead Sea
Which is your favourite red fruit - cherry, raspberry or strawberry?
Too much TV and IT will redden your eyes
Red ants in your pants is not a pleasant surprise
If your skin's burning lobster red get off that sunbed
Check out those clowns with massive red noses
Smell the sweetness of my Valentine's red roses

He was red with embarrassment
She was red with anger
Swimming by the red flag puts you in grave danger
Stop!
A red signal will halt speeding traffic
Pop!
My red balloon burst as a pin pricked its plastic
If your red's too red then think
About mixing in white to turn it pink

Ladies like to apply red makeup to their lips
Kids love to pour red ketchup on their chips
And if you're seriously silly
You might put raw red chilli on your tongue
Want a red fire engine dial 911
In the USA
Or 999 in the UK
Ole!
The bull charged the matador on seeing red
If you're colourblind you may be seeing green instead
Red rubies, cabbages, hair, beetroot, cheeks
Apples, pandas, buses, Lego bricks

Finally...
I hope you enjoyed this poem
But if you think you can make it better
Please mark your corrections in red ink
And return it to Neal Zetter

It's Not Fine to Sit on a Porcupine

August 09, 2015 by Neal zetter

It's not fine to sit on a porcupine
Your day will turn nasty and rotten
You'll have holes in your pants
And there's quite a big chance
That his quills will stay stuck in your bottom

It's not fine to sit on a porcupine
You'll shoot like a star to the ceiling
And experience pain
From your toes to your brain
Then be left with a tingling feeling

Although the creature's cute and sweet
With button nose
And tiny feet
He'll stop you relaxing in your seat
Because...

It's not fine to sit on a porcupine
Please listen, take note of my warning
When you're touching those spines
You'll scream loudly and whine
And your bum will still ache in the morning

It's not fine to sit on a porcupine
That's true I'm not joking or jesting
If you now ignore this
You'll end up with sore bits
So be careful where your rear is resting

You Can't Beat a Fry Up

July 26, 2015 by Neal zetter

Your breakfast is swimming in rivers of fat
All your best instincts are telling you that
Your heart will succumb to a fatal attack
It's a diet from hell
It's a loud alarm bell
But you can't beat a fry up

Sausage, three eggs, streaky bacon, hash browns
Nothing can top that hot sizzling sound
Soon you'll be found in a box underground
Your doc shrieks "Cholesterol!"
Each time she blood tests you
But you can't beat a fry up

With a side order of butter and toast
WeightWatchers' memberships give up the ghost
Four hours later you'll face Sunday roast
The meal you're enjoying
Has oceans of oil in
But you can't beat a fry up

I don't want Weetabix, Cornflakes or bran
Healthy fruit portions, cheese, croissants or ham
My guilty pleasure's prepared in a pan
You're slogging when jogging
With arteries clogging
But you can't beat a fry up

Saturday Dad

July 23, 2015 by Neal zetter

He's a Saturday Dad
Spending the morning with his eight-year old lad
Comparing, sharing the separate weeks they've had
Never enough time to say how he really feels
During a wander in the park
And a not very Happy Meal
How could a promise-filled future
Become so bad?
He knows the questions
Not the answers
He's a Saturday Dad

A single day in seven is too small a slice
Of the cake he baked
That's now his family life
Women, wild nights, broken promises
Too many choices not from his wedding list
A part-time parent
Ruing what he never had
While his son remains his number one
He's still a Saturday Dad

Though he wants to enjoy
Precious moments with his boy
They're filled with frustration
Struggling to find connections
In disjointed conversations
How can a match spectator collect a pass?
A father slipping further away
Prematurely out to grass
Dejected, reflecting
In his cramped bachelor pad
Counting solitary seconds
Till the weekend that beckons
He's a Saturday Dad

How to Spot a Horse

July 21, 2015 by Neal zetter

If it won't go wild for hay
Isn't black, brown, white or grey
Never whinnies, never neighs
Then it's probably not a horse

If no rider's on its back
If it doesn't love to hack
Always greets you with a quack
Then it's probably not a horse

If it can't canter or trot
Won't eat carrots (cold or hot)
Sails the oceans in a yacht
Then it's probably not a horse

If it's loathing sugar lumps
Wants to hop instead of jump
If it's grown one or two humps
Then it's probably not a horse

If its neck's without a mane
If it owns a largish brain
Parachutes from aeroplanes
Then it's probably not a horse

BUT
If it won't fit under tables
Is found in a field or stable
Has 'HORSE' written on its label
Then of course, of course, of course
It's most definitely, certainly, positively...a horse!

Mister Poetry Man

July 19, 2015 by Neal zetter

Here comes a man
With a pen in his hand
Rhythms and rhymes at his command
To build a sandcastle
You need sand
But who'd you need to write a poem?
Mister Poetry Man

Here comes a man
Guaranteed to inspire
Spreading sunshine and creating a smile
To eat a jam sandwich
You need jam
But who'd you need to write a poem?
Mister Poetry Man

Here comes a man
With a million ideas
Using verse to help sadness disappear
To drink a can of coke
You need a can
But who'd you need to write a poem?
Mister Poetry Man

Here comes a man
To make dreams come true
And a rainbow sky if you're feeling blue
To take a tram ride
You need a tram
But who'd you need to write a poem?
Mister Poetry Man

Here comes a man
With a magical touch
Words pour from his mouth
You can't get enough
If you like 'fantastic'
You will be a fan
But who'd you need to write a poem?
Mister Poetry Man

Lightning Bolt

July 12, 2015 by Neal zetter

Lamborghinis were left for dead
Speedometers smashed, shot way past red
Superman and Flash both frazzled and fried
Defeated far from the finishing line

When they faced living lightning
Not white but black
Blistering, bombing, booming along the race track

A nuclear attack
A whiplash crack
A smoking stack
The Legend with the knack
The Leader of the pack
Opponents only ever saw his back

They were trounced and toasted
Wrecked, ruined and roasted
Sweating, spraining, straining
While who gloriously coasted?

The fastest man on Earth
Powered by a million volts
Gold medal taker
From Jamaica
Mister Usain Bolt

Orangutang, atang, atang, atang, atang, atang

July 04, 2015 by Neal zetter

Who's swinging on that tree
Eats fruit and veg for tea?
The orange one that's lots of fun who children queue to see