Poems
THE MAN WHO KNOWS WHERE EVERYTHING GOES PDF Print E-mail

THE MAN WHO KNOWS WHERE EVERYTHING GOES
 
Something is broken and you’re searching for a fix ,
But you don’t know what is broken and you  don’t know where it is.
Now , there is a Man Who Knows Where Everything Goes
And he knows where everything is.
He’s been here for as long as anyone can remember ,
He was here when a thousand things were put into a thousand holes
And only he knows where all those things go.
But nothing is written down , so everyone has to sit at his feet 
And wait until he speaks.
(The Man Who Knows Where Everything Goes was going to leave , But The People Who Can’t Get Involved paid him more money).

You may find out where to start looking and you’ll get some further clues
    But in the end you’ll be in the dark about just what to do.
Now , when things are broken , well they just don’t go ,
And  The People Who Only Want Working Things  really don’t want to know.
Of course , the Man Who Knows Where Everything Goes could fix it for you - but he’s far too busy.

More and more things are being built all the time by
The People Who Can See No Problems.
These things are given  to The People Who Only Want Working Things.
When the things don’t work then they’ll call The Middle Men
to try and fix it in a jiffy.
(The Man Who Knows Where Everything Goes was going to leave , But The People Who Can’t Get Involved paid him more money.)

Of course , you can’t leave because no-one would want you ,
There’s nothing you can do except wait for more clues from
The Man Who Knows Where Everything Goes.

The thousand things were put into the thousand holes in a higgledy-piggledy order
And they want straightening out - but there’s no time.
The things need to stay in numbered holes
(otherwise no-one would know where anything goes).
 And don’t forget the things are needed all the time.

 © Tim Hunter 2010


 
The Sewers of Westminster PDF Print E-mail
Friday, 04 December 2009 18:44

In the sewers of Westminster
Rats with blood red jaws
Kill the meek
Who dare to speak
Tearing flesh with claws

 

In the sewers of Westminster
The King Rat takes a bite
Who would dare
Enter his lair
His big teeth flashing white

 

In the sewers of Westminster
Again we’ve found they lied
Now the Sluice Gates

Of their Sleaze
Are opening up wide

 

The sewers of Westminster
Their natural habitat
Let’s pull the chains
Down on the drains
And drown the feasting rats


© Tim Hunter 2009