The Friday Poetry Thread

After many long years now I'm out,
Evicted by the oik with a snout,
But I won't shed a tear,
There's nothing to fear,
The right of free speech is sacrosanct here.

all these poems are written with the same tone
that is so drone, i could moan and moan
but where would that get me on a friday that sunny
so feck you pasoti im gone

On my favourites for twenty years
But it's time to go,
I'll shed no tears.
That site will never be the same
So I won't return using my "real" name.

But there is a place where I can go
So onto Twatter for my fans and show
I'll be safe there, under wraps
Where they won't call me "that tw@t Naps".

Already I have changed my mind
Twatter is also fekin unkind.
I’ll go back to the site that I now own
Where I can hide, bully and moan.

I will use my friends in a rat race
To gain my seat in the high up place.
I’ll twist and turn and lie and cheat
And bully my way to a director’s seat.

And when I’m there looking down on scum
I’ll say to my friends “look how far I've come”.
But my friends aren't there sat next to me,
They are down below, not knowing me.

Pasoti's fecked, like North Korea
Brenty's lip's in overdrive
Same old sh*t from Newell's rear
ATD is well alive

There once was a site owner named Ian
Who was certainly an odd human bein'
While in Singapore
He tweeted galore
And said "This is better than skiin'!

In the month after the passing of Chavez
We're still watching what everyone says
lest any loose lips
manage to sink any ships
And God forbid someone mentions FES

If I had a hammer
I'd hammer in the morning
I'd hammer in the evening
All over this land
I'd hammer out a fans' bar
I'd hammer out a grandstand
I'd hammer out a club with hopes for the future
All over this land

If I had a bell
I'd ring it in the morning
I'd ring it in the evening
All over this land
I'd ring out danger
I'd ring out a warning
I'd ring out beware if you go in the Business Lounge
All over this land

If I had a song
I'd sing it in the morning
I'd sing it in the evening
All over this land
I'd sing out danger
I'd sing out a warning
I'd sing out the bullies are taking over
All over this land

Well I've got a hammer
And I've got a bell
And I've got a song to sing
All over this land
It's the hammer of justice
It's the bell of freedom
It's the song about how a football club got corrupted
All over this land

With sincere apologies and love for Pete Seeger

How much lower can this club sink
When it's stand is dwarfed by a new ice rink
It's ok, says James, it's all you need
The farm poodles are all agreed

No problem they cry we can extend
By building on the Demport End
But Barr (remember them?) they say
Extending upwards? sorry, no way.

Foundations were set for just one tier
We'll have no massive stands here
So James, with his plans so grand,
like the future of Argo, are built on sand.

Friday's here,
The time is right,
For dancing in the streets,
Or not.

Dont bring my family into it,
Or they'll be all upset
Oh wait my son's wading in
abusing that fan getting him wet
Plymuff aggro, in da bizness lounge
for my top interweb lawyer, i'll have ter scrounge

Same old shit,
Different day,
I'm off out,
Drink some stout,
Maybe later I'll get laid?

Laid on Friday,
There's no chance,
get out on the streets,
Let's dance.

My missus just cuffed me round the ear after reading my prose and told me no chance!

dont bring family into it
or you'll get no squeeze of tit

Leave it out,
Or get no clout.

tmi
so a poke in the eye.

Virility, nastiness, utterly sick; in the business lounge Jnr thundered
Just as well he spilt that pint, if he'd drunk much more he'd have chundered
It's made Big Newell pop, again, yes once again he's blundered
And most important The FPT's just 9 from the big five-hundred!

The Trust came up with quite a plan
Which seems to appeal to every man
So Brent and his cronies
And the media phoneys
Take cover when the sh*t hits the fan

Hey JB you great big ninny,
Stick your stand it's really mini,
on the champs our sights are set,
So you and our quivering lip,
on your bike should get.

Fancy a pint,
Going out drinkin',
If its at Home Park,
Best bring an oilskin.

Going fer a pint,
Thirsty like a fish.

What is happening, I'm feeling terse
The usual suspects are out of verse

Friday, Friday, Friday,
The time for drinking's here,
Shall I have a lemonade?
Or a glass of beer?

Shall I phone the 'Erald,
I could slag off the trust,
No, let's rewrite history,
That really is a must.

On Friday they purported 'big news'
It turned out to be quite a snooze
Good news for our club?
Well now here's the rub
To Brent and PCC - J'accuse

weve got a new stand
thats the same as before
my BIG announcement
sees Brent out the door