Rik's poems.... 

Pollution
All around
Sometimes...up
And sometimes...down
But always...around
Pollution
Are you coming to my town?
Or am I coming to yours?
HA! We're on different buses, Pollution,
But we're both using petrol....... 
BOMBS!!!

 

 

O Cliff!
Some times it must be difficult,
Not to feel as if
You really are a cliff
When fascists keep trying to push you over it
Are they Lemmings?
Or, are you Cliff?
Or ARE you, Cliff?

 

Oh Neil!
Neil!
Orange peel!!
If only I could see you again!

 

 

House!
House!
O, you are made of Stone!
But you are not a lone-
ly House! 

 

Marrow!
Merringue!
Boomerang!
Long, Blue, Boomerang!

 
What do you think you're doing, Pig?
 Do you really give a fig, Pig?
And what's your favourite sort of gig, Pig?
Barry Manilow?
Or the black and White Minstrel show?

 

What are doing, Neil?
To make a meal, Neil?
(It's Surreal!)
From totalitarian vegetables.
How much does it cost, Neil??

 

 

Although everyone knows that Rik's poetry is some of the finest ever written, "Neil's Book Of the Dead" contains some pretty deep stuff....

 

I don't eat meat because you are what you eat
And I'd rather be a vegetable
Than a  cow or a sheep.
Except I'm more of a cereal really
And probably there's no free gift in me either.

Like the Cherokee,
We will be free
To live our lives in peace.
Together smoke
And pass a toke
And I've completely forgotten what I was going to say now...

Eating ice cream with a fork
Is really difficult, heavy work,
But not as disgusting as eating cold pork,
You'd really be stupid eating blackboard chalk.